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fa-S/fr^-* 


t$e  (prime  (mimefere  of 
Queen  (picforia 


EDITED    BY 

STUART     J.     REID 


LORD    BEACONSFIELD 


/ 


'<•♦..;,-*',, 


LORD    BEACONSFIELD 


i:v 


J.    A.    FROUDE 


J  I,    was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
ll\   shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again' 

Hamlet,  Act   I.   Scene  2 


NEW  YORK 
HARPER   &    BROTHERS,    FRANKLIN    SQUARK 

1890 


33    ^7  — 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER    I 

PAGE 

Orlylc  on  Lord  Bcaconsfield— Judgment  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons Family  history— The  Jews  in  Spain -Migration  to 
Venice  Benjamin  DTsraeli  the  elder  — Boyhood  of  Isaac 
Disraeli i 


CHAPTER    II 

Family  "f  I  >aac  1  Hsraeli     Life  in  London— Birth  of  his  children- 
Abandons  Judaism  and  joins  the  Church  of  England— Educa- 
tion of  Benjamin    I )israeli—  School  days— Picture  of  them  in 
•Vivian    Crey  '   and    '  Contarini    Fleming '—Self-education    at 
home  — Early  ambition  .  .......      12 


CHAPTER    III 

The  Austen  family  Choice  of  a  profession— Restlessness-  Enters 
a  solicitor's  office  '  Vivian  Grey '-  Illness— Travels  abroad— 
Migration  of  the  Disraelis  to  Bradenham—  Literary  satires— 
'  Popanilla  ' — Tours  in  the  East  --Gibraltar— Cadiz—  Seville- 
Mountain  adventures  Improved  health— Malta— James  Clay 
<  Ireece— Yanina— Redshid  Pasha— Athens— Constantinople 
Plains  of  Troy  and  Revolutionary  epic — Jaffa— Jerusalem— 
Egypt  -Home  letters— Death"  of  William  Meredith— Return 
England  ...•••••••     2° 


vi  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

CHAPTER    IV 

PAGE 

1  Contarini  Fleming' — The  poetical  life— Paternal  advice  -A  poet, 
or  not  a  poet  ? — '  Revolutionary  Epic  '—Disraeli  submits  to  an 
unfavourable  verdict-  -Success  of  the  novels  -  Disraeli  a  new 
star  —  London  society  —  Political  ambition— Mrs.  Wyndham 
Lewis  — Financial  embarrassments— Portraits  of  Disraeli  by  N. 
P.Willis— Lady  Dufferin  and  others— Stands  for  High  Wycombe 
— Speech  at  the  Red  Lion  —Tory  Radicalism  — Friendship  with 
Lord  Lyndhurst — Self-confidence —Vindication  of  the  British 
Constitution  —  Conservative  reaction  —  Taunton  election  — 
Crosses  swords  with  O'Connell  — The  Runnymede  Letters- 
Admitted  into  the  Carlton  Club -' Henrietta  Temple'  and 
« Venetia  ' 45 

CHAPTER   V 

Returned  to  Parliament  for  Maidstone— Takes  his  place  behind 
Sir  R.  Peel  —  Maiden  speech  —  Silenced  by  violence  —  Peel's 
opinion  of  it  —Advice  of  Shiel — Second  speech  on  Copyright- 
Completely  successful  state  of  politics— England  in  a  state  of 
change— Break-up  of  ancient  institutions — Land  and  its  duties 
— Political  economy  and  Free  Trade — Struggle  on  the  Corn 
Laws 67 


CHAPTER    VI 

Disraeli's  beliefs,  political  and  religious  —  Sympathy  with  the 
people  —  Defends  the  Chartists  — The  people,  the  middle- 
classes,  and  the  aristocracy— Chartist  Riots— Smart  passage  at 
arms  in  the  House  of  Commons -Marriage  -Mrs.  Wyndham 
Lewis  — Disraeli  as  a  husband         ......     83 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  enthusiasm  of  progress  -Carlyle  and  Disraeli     Protection  and 
Free   Trade -Sir    Robert   Peel   the   Protectionist  champion— 


CONTENTS  vil 


PAGE 


High  Church  movement  at  Oxford— The  Church  as  a  Conser- 
vative power— Effect  of  the  Reform  Bill — Disraeli's  personal 
views— Impossible  to  realise — Election  of  1841— Sir  Robert 
Peel's  Ministry— Drift  towards  Free  Trade— Peel's  neglect  of 
Disraeli— Tariff  of  1S42— Young  England  —Symptoms  of  revolt 
—First  skirmish  with  Peel— Remarkable  speech  on  Ireland     .     91 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Young  England  and  the  Oxford  Tractarians — Disraeli  a  Hebrew  at 
heart — <  Coningsby ' — Sidonia — '  Sybil ;  or  the  Two  Nations  ' — '" 
The  great  towns  under  the  new  creed — Lords  of  the  soil,  as  they 
were  and  as  they  are — Disraeli  an  aristocratic  socialist — Practi- 
cal working  of  Parliamentary  institutions — Special  importance 
of  Sybil' 107 


CHAPTER    IX 

The  New  Gospel — Effect  on  English  character — The  Manchester 
School — Tendencies  of  Sir  Robert  Peel — The  Corn  Laws — Peel 
brought  into  office  as  a  Protectionist — Disraeli  and  Peel — Pro- 
tracted duel — Effect  of  Disraeli's  speeches — Final  declaration 
of  Peel  against  the  Corn  Laws — Corn  Laws  repealed— Lord 
George  Bentinck — Irish  Coercion  Bill — The  Canning  episode — 
Defeat  and  fall  of  Peel— Disraeli  succeeds  to  the  Leadership 
of  the  Conservative  Party       .         .         .         .         .         .         .129 


CHAPTER    X 

Disraeli  as  Leader  of  the  Opposition — Effects  of  Free  Trade — 
Scientific  discoveries — Steam — Railroads—  Commercial  revolu- 
tion— Unexampled  prosperity — Twenty-five  years  of  Liberal 
government — Disraeli's  opinions  and  general  attitude — Party 
government  and  the  conditions  of  it— Power  of  an  Oppo- 
sition Leader — Never  abused  by  Disraeli  for  party  interests — 
Special  instances — The  coup  d'etat — The  Crimean  War — 
The  Indian  Mutiny — The  Civil  War  in  America — Remarkable 
warning  against  playing  with  the  Constitution  .         .         .149 

a 


Vlii  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER    XI 

page 
Literary  work — '  Tancred  ;  or,  the  New  Crusade ' — Modern  philo- 
sophy—The 'Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History  of  Creation' — 'Life 
of  Lord  George  Bentinck' — Disraeli's  religious  views — Revela- 
tion as  opposed  to  Science — Dislike  and  dread  of  Rationalism — 
Religion  and  statesmanship — The  national  creed  the  supplement 
of  the  national  law — Speech  in  the  theatre  at  Oxford — Disraeli 
on  the  side  of  the  angels         .......   165; 


CHAPTER   XII 

Indifference  to  money — Death  of  Isaac  Disraeli — Purchase  of 
Hughenden — Mrs.  Brydges  Willyams  of  Torquay — An  assigna- 
tion with  unexpected  results — Intimate  acquaintance  with  Mrs. 
Willyams— Correspondence — Views  on  many  subjects — The 
Crown  of  Greece — Louis  Napoleon — Spanish  pedigree  of  Mrs. 
Willyams 178 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Fall  of  the  Whigs  in  1867 — Disraeli  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
— Reform  Bill  why  undertaken — Necessities,  real  or  fancied,  of 
a  Party  Leader — Alternatives — Split  in  the  Cabinet — Disraeli 
carries  his  point — Niagara  to  be  shot — Retirement  of  Lord 
Derby — Disraeli  Prime  Minister — Various  judgments  of  his 
character — The  House  of  Commons  responsible  for  his  eleva- 
tion— Increasing  popularity  with  all  classes     .         .         .         .188 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Reply  of  the  Liberals  to  the  Tory  Reform  Bill— State  of  Ireland— 
The  Protestant  Establishment — Resolutions  proposed  by  Mr. 


CONTENTS  jx 

PAGE 

Gladstone — Decay  of  Protestant  feeling  in  England — Protestant 
character  of  the  Irish  Church — The  Upas  Tree — Mr.  Gladstone's 
Irish  policy — General  effect  on  Ireland  of  the  Protestant 
Establishment — Voltaire's  opinion  —  Imperfect  results — The 
character  of  the  Protestant  gentry — Nature  of  the  proposed 
change — Sprung  on  England  as  a  surprise — Mr.  Gladstone's 
resolutions  carried — Fall  of  Disraeli's  Government  .         .         .    199 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  calm  of  satisfied  ambition — A  new  novel — c  Lothair' — Survey 
of  English  society — The  modern  aristocracy — Forces  working 
on  the  surface  and  below  it — Worship  of  rank — Cardina 
Grandison — Revolutionary  Socialism — Romeward  drift  of  the 
higher  classes — '  Lothau '  by  far  the  most  remarkable  of  all 
Disraeli's  writings  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .215 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The  exhausted  volcanoes — Mr.  Gladstone's  failure  and  unpopularity 
— Ireland  worse  than  before — Loss  of  influence  in  Europe — 
The  Election  of  1874 — Great  Conservative  majority — Disraeli 
again  Prime  Minister  with  real  power — His  general  position  as 
a  politician — Problems  waiting  to  be  dealt  with — The  relations 
between  the  Colonies  and  the  Empire — The  restoration  of  the 
authority  of  the  law  in  Ireland — Disraeli's  strength  and  Disraeli's 
weakness — Prefers  an  ambitious  foreign  policy — Russia  and 
Turkey — The  Eastern  question — Two  possible  policies  and  the 
effects  of  each — Disraeli's  choice — Threatened  war  with  Russia 
— The  Berlin  Conference — Peace  with  honour — Jingoism  and 
fall  of  the  Conservative  party — Other  features  of  his  adminis- 
tration—  Goes  to  the  House  of  Lords  as  Earl  of  Beaconsfield  and 
receives  the  Garter— Public  Worship  Act — Admirable  distri- 
bution of  patronage — Disraeli  and  Carlyle  —  Judgment  of  a 
conductor  of  an  omnibus        .......  232 


LORD  BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   XVII 

PAGE 

Retirement  from  office — Dignity  in  retreat — Hughenden — Lord 
Beaconsfield  as  a  landlord — Fondness  for  country  life — •  En- 
dymion  '  —  Illness  and  death  —  Attempted  estimate  of  Lord 
Beaconsfield — a  great  man  ?  or  not  a  great  man? — Those  only 
great  who  can  forget  themselves — Never  completely  an  English- 
man— Relatively  great,  not  absolutely — Gulliver  among  Lilli- 
putians— Signs  in  '  Sybil '  of  a  higher  purpose,  but  a  purpose 
incapable  of  realisation — Simplicity  and  blamelessness  in  private 
life — Indifference  to  fortune— Integrity  as  a  statesman  and 
administrator         .....„•..   254 

Index 263 


LORD    BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   I 

Carlyle  on  Lord  ISeaconsfield — Judgment  of  the  House  of  Commons — 
Family  History  —  The  Jews  in  Spain  —  Migration  to  Venice — 
Benjamin  DTsraeli  the  Elder — Boyhood  of  Isaac  Disraeli. 

Carlyle,  speaking  to  me  many  years  ago  of  parliamentary 
government  as  he  had  observed  the  working  of  it  in  this 
country,  said  that  under  this  system  not  the  fittest  men  were 
chosen  to  administer  our  affairs,  but  the  '  unfittest.'  The 
subject  of  the  present  memoir  was  scornfully  mentioned  as 
an  illustration  ;  yet  Carlyle  seldom  passed  a  sweeping 
censure  upon  any  man  without  pausing  to  correct  himself. 
'  Well,  well,  poor  fellow,'  he  added,  '  I  dare  say  if  we  knew 
all  about  him  we  should  have  to  think  differently.'  I  do 
not  know  that  he  ever  did  try  to  think  differently.  His 
disposition  to  a  milder  judgment,  if  he  entertained  such  a 
disposition,  was  scattered  by  the  Reform  Bill  of  1867, 
which  Carlyle  regarded  as  the  suicide  of  the  English  nation. 
In  his  '  Shooting  Niagara  '  he  recorded  his  own  verdict  on 
that  measure  and  the  author  of  it. 

'  For  a  generation  past  it  has  been  growing  more  and 
more  evident  that  there  was  only  this  issue  ;  but  now  the 

B 


2  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

issue  itself  has  become  imminent,  the  distance  of  it  to  be 
guessed  by  years.  Traitorous  politicians  grasping  at  votes, 
even  votes  from  the  rabble,  have  brought  it  on.  One  cannot 
but  consider  them  traitorous  ;  and  for  one's  own  poor  share 
would  rather  have  been  shot  than  have  been  concerned  in 
it.  And  yet,  after  all  my  silent  indignation  and  disgust,  I 
cannot  pretend  to  be  clearly  sorry  that  such  a  consummation 
is  expedited.  I  say  to  myself,  Well,  perhaps  the  sooner 
such  a  mass  of  hypocrisies,  universal  mismanagements,  and 
brutal  platitudes  and  infidelities  ends,  if  not  in  some  im- 
provement then  in  death  and  finis,  may  it  not  be  the 
better  ?  The  sum  of  our  sins  increasing  steadily  day  by 
day  will  at  least  be  less  the  sooner  the  settlement  is.  Nay, 
have  I  not  a  kind  of  secret  satisfaction  of  the  malicious  or 
even  of  the  judiciary  kind  {Schadenfreude,  "  mischief 
joy,"  the  Germans  call  it,  but  really  it  is  "justice  joy" 
withal)  that  he  they  call  Dizzy  is  to  do  it ;  that  other 
jugglers  of  an  unconscious  and  deeper  type,  having  sold 
their  poor  mother's  body  for  a  mess  of  official  pottage,  this 
clever,  conscious  juggler  steps  in  ?  "  Soft,  you,  my  honour- 
able friends  :  /will  weigh  out  the  corpse  of  your  mother — 
mother  of  mine  she  never  was,  but  only  step-mother  and 
milch  cow — and  you  shan't  have  the  pottage — not  yours 
you  observe,  but  mine."  This  really  is  a  pleasing  trait  of 
its  sort ;  other  traits  there  are  abundantly  ludicrous,  but 
they  are  too  lugubrious  even  to  be  momentarily  pleasant. 
A  superlative  Hebrew  conjuror  spell-binding  all  the  great 
lords,  great  parties,  great  interests  of  England  to  his  hand 
in  this  manner,  and  leading  them  by  the  nose  like  helpless 
mesmerised  somnambulist  cattle  to  such  issue  !  Did  the 
world  ever  see  a  fiebile  ludibrium  of  such  magnitude 
before  ?      Lath-sword    and    scissors    of    Destiny,    Pickle- 


CARLYLES   OHXION    OF    HIM  3 

herring  and  the  three  Parcce  alike  busy  in  it.  This  too 
I  suppose  we  had  deserved  ;  the  end  of  our  poor  old 
England  (such  an  England  as  we  had  at  last  made  of  it) 
to  be  not  a  fearful  tragedy,  but  an  ignominious  farce  as 
well' 

The  consequences  of  the  precipitation  over  the  cataract 
not  being  immediate,  and  Government  still  continuing, 
over  which  a  juggler  of  some  kind  must  necessarily  pre- 
side, Carlyle,  though  hope  had  forsaken  him,  retained  his 
preference  for  the  conscious  over  the  unconscious.  He 
had  a  faint  pleasure  in  Disraeli's  accession  to  power  in 
1874.  He  was  even  anxious  that  I  should  myself  accept  a 
proposal  of  a  seat  in  Parliament  which  had  been  made  to 
me,  as  a  quasi  follower  of  Disraeli — not  that  he  trusted 
him  any  better,  but  he  thought  him  preferable  to  a  worse 
alternative.  He  was  touched  with  some  compunction 
for  what  he  had  written  when  Disraeli  acknowledged 
Carlyle's  supremacy  as  a  man  of  letters— offered  him  rank 
and  honours  and  money,  and  offered  them  in  terms  as 
flattering  as  his  own  proudest  estimate  of  himself  could 
have  dictated.  Accept  such  offers  Carlyle  could  not  ;  but 
he  was  affected  by  the  recognition  that  of  all  English 
ministers  the  Hebrew  conjuror  should  have  been  the  only 
one  who  had  acknowledged  his  services  to  his  country,  and 
although  he  disapproved  and  denounced  Disraeli's  policy  in 
the  East  he  did  perceive  that  there  might  be  qualities  in 
the  man  to  which  he  had  not  done  perfect  justice. 

However  that  may  be,  Disraeli  was  a  child  of  Parliament. 
It  was  Parliament  and  the  confidence  of  Parliament  which 
gave  him  his  place  in  the  State.  For  forty  years  he  was  in 
the  front  of  all  the  battles  which  were  fought  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  in  opposition  or  in  office,  in  adversity  or  in 

b  2 


4  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

success,  in  conflict  and  competition  with  the  most  famous 
debaters  of  the  age.  In  the  teeth  of  prejudice,  without 
support  save  in  his  own  force  of  character,  without  the 
advantage  of  being  the  representative  of  any  popular  cause 
which  appealed  to  the  imagination,  he  fought  his  way  till 
the  consent  of  Parliament  and  country  raised  him  to  the 
Premiership. 

Extraordinary  qualities  of  some  kind  he  must  have 
possessed.  No  horse  could  win  in  such  a  race  who  had  not 
blood  and  bone  and  sinew.  Whether  he  was  fit  or  unfit  to 
govern  England,  the  House  of  Commons  chose  him  as  their 
best  ;  and  if  he  was  the  charlatan  which  in  some  quarters 
he  is  supposed  to  have  been,  the  Parliament  which  in  so 
many  years  failed  to  detect  his  unworthiness  is  itself  unfit 
to  be  trusted  with  the  nation's  welfare.  He  was  not  borne 
into  power  on  the  tide  of  any  outside  movement.  He  was 
not  the  advocate  of  any  favourite  measure  with  which  his 
name  was  identified.  He  rose  by  his  personal  qualifications 
alone,  and  in  studying  what  those  qualifications  were  we 
are  studying  the  character  of  Parliament  itself. 

The  prophets  who  spoke  of  the  dispersion  of  the  Jews 
as  a  penalty  for  their  sins  described  a  phenomenon  which 
probably  preceded  the  Captivity.  Through  Tyre  the  Hebrew 
race  had  a  road  open  through  which  they  could  spread  along 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  There  was  a  colony  of 
them  in  Rome  in  the  time  of  Cicero.  In  Carthage  they 
were  among  a  people  who  spoke  their  own  language.  It 
is  likely  that  they  accompanied  the  Carthaginians  in  their 
conquests  and  commercial  enterprises,  and  were  thus  intro- 
duced into  Spain,  where  a  Jewish  community  undoubtedly 
existed  in  St.  Paul's  time,  and  where  it  survived  through 
all  changes  in  the  fortunes  of  the  Peninsula.     Under  the 


THE   JEWS    IN    STAIN  5 

Arabs  the  Jews  of  Spain  preserved  undisturbed  their 
peculiar  characteristics.  As  the  crescent  waned  before  the 
cross  they  intermarried  with  Christian  families,  and  con- 
formed outwardly  with  the  established  faith  while  they  re- 
tained in  secret  their  own  ceremonies. 

The  Jewish  people,  says  Isaac  Disraeli  in  his  '  Genius  of 
Judaism,'  are  not  a  nation,  for  they  consist  of  many  nations. 
They  are  Spanish  or  Portuguese,  German  or  Polish,  and,  like 
the  chameleon,  they  reflect  the  colours  of  the  spot  they  rest 
on.  The  people  of  Israel  are  like  water  running  through 
vast  countries,  tinged  in  their  course  with  all  varieties  of  the 
soil  where  they  deposit  themselves.  Every  native  Jew  as  a 
political  being  becomes  distinct  from  other  Jews.  The 
Hebrew  adopts  the  hostilities  and  the  alliances  of  the  land 
where  he  was  born.  He  calls  himself  by  the  name  of  his 
country.  Under  all  these  political  varieties  the  Jew  of  the 
Middle  Ages  endeavoured  to  preserve  his  inward  peculiari- 
ties. In  England,  in  France,  in  Germany,  in  Italy,  he 
enjoyed  for  the  sake  of  his  wealth  a  fitful  toleration,  with 
intervals  of  furious  persecution.  From  England  he  was 
expelled  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  his 
property  was  confiscated  to  the  State.  In  crusading  Spain 
he  had  not  ventured  to  practise  his  creed  in  the  open  day, 
and  thus  escaped  more  easily.  He  was  unmolested  as  long 
as  he  professed  a  nominal  Christianity.  He  was  wealthy, 
he  was  ingenious,  he  was  enterprising.  In  his  half-trans- 
parent disguise  he  intermarried  with  the  proudest  Castilian 
breeds.  He  took  service  under  the  State,  and  rose  to  the 
highest  positions,  even  in  the  Church  itself.  A  Jew  who 
had  not  ceased  to  be  a  Jew  in  secret  became  Primate  of 
Spain,  and  when  the  crowns  of  Castile  and  Aragon 
became  united  it  was  reckoned  that  there  was  scarcely  a 


6  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

noble  family  in  the  two  realms  pure  from  intermixture  of 
Jewish  blood.  His  prosperity  was  the  cause  of  his  ruin. 
The  kingdom  of  Granada  fell  at  last  before  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  and  the  Church  of  Spain  addressed  itself,  in  grati- 
tude to  Providence,  to  the  purifying  of  the  Peninsula  from 
the  unholy  presence  of  the  wealthy  unbeliever. 

The  Jews  who  were  willing  to  break  completely  with 
their  religious  associations  remained  undisturbed.  The 
Inquisition  undertook  the  clearance  of  the  rest,  and  set  to 
work  with  characteristic  vigour.  Rank  was  no  protection. 
The  highest  nobles  were  among  the  first  who  were  called 
for  examination  before  Torquemada's  tribunal.  Tens  of 
thousands  of  the  '  new  Christians '  who  were  convicted  of 
having  practised  the  rites  of  their  own  religion  after  out- 
ward conformity  with  Christianity,  were  burnt  at  the  stake  as 
'  relapsed.'  Those  who  could  escape  fled  to  other  countries 
where  a  less  violent  bigotry  would  allow  them  a  home. 
Venice  was  the  least  intolerant.  Venice  lived  upon  its  com- 
merce, and  the  Jews  there,  as  always,  were  the  shrewdest 
traders  in  the  world.  The  Venetian  aristocrats  might  treat 
them  as  social  pariahs,  rate  them  on  the  Rialto,  and  spit 
upon  their  gabardines,  but  they  had  ducats,  and  their 
ducats  secured  them  the  protection  of  the  law. 

Among  those  who  thus  sought  and  found  the  hospitality 
of  the  Adriatic  republic  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century 
was  a  family  allied  with  the  house  of  Lara,  and  perhaps 
entitled  to  bear  its  name.  They  preferred,  however,  to 
break  entirely  their  connection  with  the  country  which  had 
cast  them  off.  They  called  themselves  simply  D'Israeli,  or 
Sons  of  Israel,  a  name,  says  Lord  Beaconsfield,  never  borne 
before  or  since  by  any  other  family,  in  order  that  their  race 
might  be  for  ever  recognised.     At  Venice  they  lived  and 


.1 


THE   DISRAELI    FAMILY  7 

throve,  and  made  money  for  two  hundred  years.  Towards 
the  middle  of  the  last  century,  when  Venice  was  losing  her 
commercial  pre-eminence,  they  began  to  turn  their  eyes  else- 
where. Very  many  of  their  countrymen  were  already  doing 
well  in  Holland.  England  was  again  open  to  them.  Jews 
were  still  under  some  disabilities  there,  but  they  were  in 
no  danger  of  being  torn  by  horses  in  the  streets  under 
charge  of  eating  children  at  their  Passover.  They  could 
follow  their  business  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  it;  and  the 
head  of  the  Venetian  house  decided  that  his  second  son, 
Benjamin,  '  the  child  of  his  right  hand,'  should  try  his 
fortune  in  London.  The  Disraelis  retained  something  of 
their  Spanish  pride,  and  did  not  like  to  be  confounded  with 
the  lower  grades  of  Hebrews  whom  they  found  already 
established  there.  The  young  Benjamin  was  but  eighteen 
when  he  came  over;  he  took  root  and  prospered,  but  he 
followed  a  line  of  his  own  and  never  cordially  or  intimately 
mixed  with  the  Jewish  community,  and  the  tendency  to 
alienation  was  increased  by  his  marriage. 

'My  grandfather,'  wrote  Lord  Beaconsfield,  'was  a  man 
of  ardent  character,  sanguine,  courageous,  speculative,  and 
fortunate;  with  a  temper  which  no  disappointment  could 
disturb  and  a  brain  full  of  resources.'  He  made  a  fortune, 
he  married  a  beautiful  woman  of  the  same  religion  as  his 
own  and  whose  family  had  suffered  equally  from  persecu- 
tion. The  lady  was  ambitious  of  social  distinction,  and 
she  resented  upon  her  unfortunate  race  the  slights  and 
disappointments  to  which  it  exposed  her.  Her  husband 
took  it  more  easily.  He  was  rich.  He  had  a  country  house 
at  Enfield,  where  he  entertained  his  friends,  played  whist, 
and  enjoyed  himself,  'notwithstanding  a  wife  who  never 
pardoned  him  his  name.'     So  successful  he  had  been  that 


8  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

he  saw  his  way  to  founding  a  house  which  might  have 
been  a  power  in  Europe.  But  the  more  splendid  his 
position  the  more  bitter  would  have  been  his  wife's  feelings. 
He  retired  therefore  early  from  the  field,  contented  with 
the  wealth  which  he  had  acquired.  Perhaps  his  resolution 
was  precipitated  by  the  character  of  the  son  who  was  the 
only  issue  of  his  marriage.  Isaac  Disraeli  was  intended 
for  the  heir  of  business,  and  Isaac  showed  from  the  first 
a  determined  disinclination  for  business  of  any  sort  or  kind. 
'  Nature  had  disqualified  the  child  from  his  cradle  for  the 
busy  pursuits  of  men.'  '  He  grew  up  beneath  a  roof  of 
worldly  energy  and  enjoyment,  indicating  that  he  was  of  a 
different  order  from  those  with  whom  he  lived.'  Neither 
his  father  nor  his  mother  understood  him.  To  one  he  was 
'an  enigma,'  to  the  other  'a  provocation.'  His  dreamy, 
wandering  eyes  were  hopelessly  unpractical.  His  mother 
was  irritated  because  she  could  not  rouse  him  into  energy. 
He  grew  on  '  to  the  mournful  period  of  boyhood,  when 
eccentricities  excite  attention  and  command  no  sympathy.' 
Mrs.  Disraeli  was  exasperated  when  she  ought  to  have  been 
gentle.  Her  Isaac  was  the  last  drop  in  her  cup  of  bitterness, 
and  only  served  to  swell  the  aggregate  of  many  humiliating 
particulars.'  She  grew  so  embittered  over  her  grievances 
that  Lord  Beaconsfield  says  '  she  lived  till  eighty  without 
indulging  a  tender  expression  ; '  and  must  have  been  an 
unpleasant  figure  in  her  grandson's  childish  recollections. 
The  father  did  his  best  to  keep  the  peace,  but  had  nothing 
to  offer  but  good-natured  commonplaces.  Isaac  at  last  ran 
away  from  home,  and  was  brought  back  after  being  found 
lying  on  a  tombstone  in  Hackney  Churchyard.  His  father 
'  embraced  him,  gave  him  a  pony,'  and  sent  him  to  a  day 
School,  where  he  held  temporary  peace.    I>ut  the  reproaches 


ISAAC    DISRAELI  9 

and  upbraidings  recommenced  when  he  returned  in  the 
evenings.  To  crown  all,  Isaac  was  delivered  of  a  poem, 
and  for  the  first  time  the  head  of  the  family  was  seriously 
alarmed.  Hitherto  he  had  supposed  that  boys  would  be 
boys,  and  their  follies  ought  not  to  be  too  seriously  noticed  ; 
but  a  poem  was  a  more  dangerous  symptom  ;  '  the  loss  of 
his  argosies  could  not  have  filled  him  with  a  more  blank 
dismay.' 

The  too  imaginative  youth  was  despatched  to  a  counting- 
house  in  Holland.  His  father  went  occasionally  to  see  him, 
but  left  him  for  several  years  to  drudge  over  ledgers  with- 
out once  coming  home,  in  the  hope  that  in  this  way,  if  in 
no  other,  the  evil  spirit  might  be  exorcised.  Had  it  been 
necessary  for  Isaac  Disraeli  to  earn  his  own  bread  the 
experiment  might  have  succeeded.  His  nature  was  gentle 
and  amiable,  and  though  he  could  not  be  driven  he  might 
have  been  led.  But  he  knew  that  he  was  the  only  child 
of  a  wealthy  parent.  Why  should  he  do  violence  to  his 
disposition  and  make  himself  unnecessarily  miserable  ? 
Instead  of  book-keeping  he  read  Bayle  and  Voltaire.  He 
was  swept  into  Rousseauism  and  imagined  himself  another 
Emile.  When  recalled  home  at  last  the  boy  had  become 
a  young  man.  He  had  pictured  to  himself  a  passionate 
scene  in  which  he  was  to  fly  into  his  mother's  arms,  and 
their  hearts  were  to  rush  together  in  tears  of  a  recovered 
affection.  '  When  he  entered,  his  strange  appearance,  his 
gaunt  figure,  his  excited  manner,  his  long  hair,  and  his 
unfashionable  costume  only  filled  her  with  a  sentiment  of 
tender  aversion.  She  broke  into  derisive  laughter,  and 
noticing  his  intolerable  garments  reluctantly  lent  him  her 
cheek.'  The  result,  of  course,  was  a  renewal  of  household 
ropery.     His   father  assured  him  that  his  parents  desired 


10  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

only  to  make  him  happy,  and  proposed  to  establish  him 
in  business  at  Bordeaux.  He  replied  that  he  had  written 
another  poem  against  commerce,  '  which  was  the  corrup- 
tion of  man,'  and  that  he  meant  to  publish  it.  What  was 
to  be  done  with  such  a  lad  ?  '  With  a  home  that  ought 
to  have  been  happy,'  says  Lord  Beaconsfield,  '  surrounded 
with  more  than  comfort,  with  the  most  good-natured 
father  in  the  world  and  an  agreeable  man,  and  with  a 
mother  whose  strong  intellect  under  ordinary  circumstances 
might  have  been  of  great  importance  to  him,  my  father, 
though  himself  of  a  very  sweet  disposition,  was  most 
unhappy.'  To  keep  him  at  home  was  worse  than  useless. 
He  was  sent  abroad  again,  but  on  his  own  terms.  He  went 
to  Paris,  made  literary  acquaintance,  studied  in  libraries, 
and  remained  till  the  eve  of  the  Revolution  amidst  the 
intellectual  and  social  excitement  which  preceded  the 
general  convulsion.  But  his  better  sense  rebelled  against 
the  Rousseau  enthusiasm.  Paris  ceasing  to  be  a  safe 
residence,  he  came  home  once  more,  recovered  from  the 
dangerous  form  of  his  disorder,  '  with  some  knowledge  of 
the  world  and  much  of  books.' 

His  aversion  to  the  counting-house  was,  however,  as 
pronounced  as  ever.  Benjamin  Disraeli  resigned  himself 
to  the  inevitable — wound  up  his  affairs  and  retired,  as  has 
been  said,  upon  the  fortune  which  he  had  realised.  Isaac, 
assured  of  independence,  if  not  of  great  wealth,  went  his 
own  way;  published  a  satire,  which  the  old  man  overlived 
without  a  catastrophe,  and  entered  the  literary  world  of 
London.  Before  he  was  thirty  he  brought  out  his 
'  Curiosities  of  Literature,'  which  stepped  at  once  into 
popularity  and  gave  him  a  name.  He  wrote  verses  which 
were   pretty   and   graceful,    verses   which   were    read   and 


ISAAC   DISRAELI  II 

remembered  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  were  at  least  better 
than  his  son's.  But  he  was  too  modest  to  overrate  their 
value.  He  knew  that  poetry,  unless  it  be  the  best  of  its 
kind,  is  better  unprodueed,  and  withdrew  within  the  limits 
where  he  was  conscious  that  he  could  excel.  '  The  poetical 
temperament  was  not  thrown  away  upon  him.  Because  he 
was  a  poet  he  was  a  popular  writer,  and  made  belles-lettres 
charming  to  the  multitude.  .  .  .  His  destiny  was  to  give 
his  country  a  series  of  works  illustrative  of  its  literary  and 
political  history,  full  of  new  information  and  new  views 
which  time  has  ratified  as  just.' 


12  LORD   EEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   II 

Family  of  Isaac  Disraeli — Life  in  London — Birth  of  his  Children  — 
Abandons  Judaism  and  joins  the  Church  of  England — Education  of 
Benjamin  Disraeli— School  Days — Ficture  of  them  in  'Vivian 
Grey'  and  '  Contarini   Fleming' — Self-education  at  Home  — Early 

Ambition. 

Isaac  Disraeli,  having  the  advantage  of  a  good  fortune, 
escaped  the  embarrassments  which  attend  a  struggling 
literary  career.  His  circumstances  were  easy.  He  became 
intimate  with  distinguished  men  ;  and  his  experiences  in 
Paris  had  widened  and  liberalised  his  mind.  His  creed  sate 
light  upon  him,  but  as  long  as  his  father  lived  he  remained 
nominally  in  the  communion  in  which  he  was  born.  He 
married  happily  a  Jewish  lady,  Maria,  daughter  of  Mr. 
George  Basevi,  of  Brighton,  a  gentle,  sweet-tempered,  affec- 
tionate woman.  To  her  he  relinquished  the  management 
of  his  worldly  affairs,  and  divided  his  time  between  his  own 
splendid  library,  the  shops  of  book  collectors  or  the  British 
Museum,  and  the  brilliant  society  of  politicians  and  men  of 
letters.  His  domestic  life  was  unruffled  by  the  storms  which 
had  disturbed  his  boyhood  ;  a  household  more  affectionately 
united  was  scarcely  to  be  found  within  the  four  seas.  Four 
children  were  born  to  him — the  eldest  a  daughter,  Sarah, 
whose  gifts  and  accomplishments  would  have  raised  her,  had 
she  been  a  man,  into  fame  \  Benjamin,  the  Prime  Minister 


BIRTH   AND   EDUCATION  I  3 

that  was  to  be,  and  two  other  boys,  Ralph  and  James.  The 
Disraelis  lived  in  London,  but  changed  their  residence  more 
than  once.  At  the  outset  of  their  married  life  they  had 
chambers  in  the  Adelphi.  From  thence  they  removed  to 
the  King's  Road,  Gray's  Inn,  and  there,  on  December  21, 
1804,  Benjamin  was  born.  He  was  received  into  the  Jewish 
Church  with  the  usual  rites,  the  record  of  the  initiation 
being  preserved  in  the  register  of  the  Spanish  and  Portu- 
guese synagogue  Bevis  Marks.  No  soothsayer  having 
foretold  his  future  eminence,  he  was  left  to  grow  up  much 
like  other  children.  He  was  his  mother's  darling,  and  was 
naturally  spoilt.  He  was  unruly,  and  a  noisy  boy  at  home 
perhaps  disturbed  his  father's  serenity.  At  an  early  age  it 
was  decided  that  he  must  go  to  school,  but  where  it  was  not 
easy  to  decide.  English  boys  were  rough  and  prejudiced, 
and  a  Jewish  lad  would  be  likely  to  have  a  hard  time  among 
them.  No  friend  of  Isaac  Disraeli,  who  knew  what  English 
public  schools  were  then  like,  would  have  recommended  him 
to  commit  his  lad  to  the  rude  treatment  which  he  would 
encounter  at  Eton  or  Winchester.  A  private  establishment 
of  a  smaller  kind  had  to  be  tried  as  preliminary. 

Disraeli's  first  introduction  to  life  was  at  a  Mr.  Poticary's, 
at  Blackheath,  where  he  remained  for  several  years — till  he 
was  too  old  to  be  left  there,  and  till  a  very  considerable 
change  took  place  in  the  circumstances  of  the  family.  In 
181 7  the  grandfather  died.  Isaac  Disraeli  succeeded  to 
his  fortune,  removed  from  Gray's  Inn  Road,  and  took  a 
larger  house — No.  6  Bloomsbury  Square,  then  a  favourite 
situation  for  leading  lawyers  and  men  of  business.  A  more 
important  step  was  his  formal  withdrawal  from  the  Jewish 
congregation.  The  reasons  for  it,  as  given  by  himself  in  his 
'  Genius  of  Judaism,'  were  the  narrowness  of  the  system,  the 


14  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

insistence  that  the  Law  was  of  perpetual  obligation,  while 
circumstances  changed  and  laws  failed  of  their  objects.  '  The 
inventions,'  he  says,  'of  theTalmudical  doctors,  incorporated 
in  their  ceremonies,  have  bound  them  hand  and  foot,  and 
cast  them  into  the  caverns  of  the  lone  and  sullen  genius  of 
rabbinical  Judaism,  cutting  them  off  from  the  great  family 
of  mankind  and  perpetuating  their  sorrow  and  their  shame.' 
The  explanation  is  sufficient,  but  the  resolution  was  pro- 
bably of  older  date.  The  coincidence  between  the  date  of 
his  father's  death  and  his  own  secession  points  to  a  connec- 
tion between  the  two  events.  His  mother's  impatience  of 
her  Jewish  fetters  must  naturally  have  left  a  mark  on  his 
mind,  and  having  no  belief  himself  in  the  system,  he  must 
have  wished  to  relieve  his  children  of  the  disabilities  and  in- 
conveniences which  attached  to  them  as  members  of  the 
synagogue.  At  all  events  at  this  period  he  followed  the 
example  of  his  Spanish  ancestors  in  merging  himself  and 
them  in  the  general  population  of  his  adopted  country.  The 
entire  household  became  members  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. The  children  read  their  Prayer  Books  and  learned 
their  catechisms.  On  July  31  in  that  year  Benjamin  Dis- 
raeli was  baptised  at  St.  Andrew's  Church,  Holborn,  having 
for  his  godfather  his  father's  intimate  friend  the  distin- 
guished Sharon  Turner. 

The  education  problem  was  thus  simplified,  but  not 
entirely  solved.  The  instruction  at  Mr.  Poticary's  was  in- 
different. '  Ben  '  had  learnt  little  there.  The  Latin  and 
Greek  were  all  behindhand,  and  of  grammar,  which  in  those 
days  was  taught  tolerably  effectively  in  good  English  schools, 
he  had  brought  away  next  to  nothing.  But  he  was  quick, 
clever,  impetuous.  At  home  he  was  surrounded  with  books, 
and  had  read  for  himself  with  miscellaneous  voracity.     In 


SCHOOL   LIFE  15 

general  knowledge  and  thought  he  was  far  beyond  his  age. 
His  father's  wish  was  to  give  him  the  best  education  pos- 
sible— to  send  him  to  Eton,  and  then  to  a  university.  His 
mother  believed  that  a  public  school  was  a  place  where 
boys  were  roasted  alive.  '  Ben  '  was  strong  and  daring, 
and  might  be  trusted  to  take  care  of  himself.  The 
objections,  however,  notwithstanding  the  removal  of  the 
religious  difficulty,  were  still  considerable.  The  character 
of  a  public  school  is  more  determined  by  the  boys  than  by 
the  masters.  There  were  no  institutions  where  prejudice 
had  freer  play  at  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  The 
nationality  of  a  Disraeli  could  neither  be  concealed  nor 
forgotten,  and  though  he  might  be  called  a  Christian,  and 
though  he  might  be  ready  to  return  blow  for  blow  if  he 
was  insulted  or  ill-used,  it  is  not  likely  that  at  either  one  of 
our  great  public  foundations  he  would  have  met  with  any 
tolerable  reception.  He  would  himself  have  willingly  run 
the  risk,  and  regretted  afterwards,  perhaps,  that  he  had  no 
share  in  the  bright  Eton  life  which  he  describes  so  vividly  in 
'  Coningsby.'  It  was  decided  otherwise.  The  school  chosen 
for  him  was  at  Walthamstow.  The  master  was  a  Dr.  Cogan, 
a  Unitarian.  There  were  many  boys  there,  sons  most  of  them 
of  rich  parents  ;  but  the  society  at  a  Unitarian  school  seventy 
years  ago  could  not  have  been  distinguished  for  birth  or 
good  breeding.  Neither  '  Vivian  Grey '  nor  '  Contarini 
Fleming  '  can  be  trusted  literally  for  autobiographical  details ; 
but  Disraeli  has  identified  himself  with  Contarini  in  assigning 
to  him  many  of  his  own  personal  experiences,  and  Vivian  has 
been  always  acknowledged  as  a  portrait  sketched  from  a 
looking-glass.  In  both  these  novels  there  arc  pictures  of 
the  hero's  school  days,  so  like  in  their  general  features 
that  they  may  be  taken  as  a  fair  account  of  Disraeli's  own 


l6  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

recollections.  He  was  fifteen  when  he  went  to  Walthamstow, 
and  was  then  beyond  the  age  when  most  boys  begin  their 
school  career. 

'  For  the  first  time  in  my  life,'  says  Contarini,  '  I  was 
surrounded  by  struggling  and  excited  beings.  Joy,  hope, 
sorrow,  ambition,  craft,  dulness,  courage,  cowardice,  bene- 
ficence, awkwardness,  grace,  avarice,  generosity,  wealth, 
poverty,  beauty,  hideousness,  tyranny,  suffering,  hypocrisy, 
tricks,  love,  hatred,  energy,  inertness,  they  were  all  there  and 
sounded  and  moved  and  acted  about  me.  Light  laughs  and 
bitter  cries  and  deep  imprecations,  and  the  deeds  of  the 
friendly,  the  prodigal,  and  the  tyrant,  the  exploits  of  the 
brave,  the  graceful,  and  the  gay,  and  the  flying  words  of 
native  wit  and  the  pompous  sentences  of  acquired  know- 
ledge, how  new,  how  exciting,  how  wonderful  ! ' 

Contarini  is  Disraeli  thus  launched  into  a  school  epitome 
of  the  world  after  the  Unitarian  pattern.  It  was  a  poor 
substitute  for  Eton.  The  young  Disraeli  soon  asserted 
his  superiority.  He  made  enemies,  he  made  friends,  at 
all  events  he  distinguished  himself  from  his  comrades. 
School  work  did  not  interest  him,  and  he  paid  but 
slight  attention  to  it.  He  wanted  ideas,  and  he  was  given 
what  seemed  to  him  to  be  but  words.  He  lost  the  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  an  exact  scholar.  On  the  other  hand 
in  thought,  in  imagination,  in  general  attainments,  he  was 
superior  to  everyone  about  him,  masters  included.  Superio- 
rity begets  jealousy.  Boys  never  pardon  a  comrade  who  is 
unlike  themselves.  He  was  taunted  with  his  birth,  as  it 
was  inevitable  that  he  would  be.  As  inevitably  he  resented 
the  insult.  Contarini  Fleming  and  Vivian  Grey  both  fight 
and  thrash  the  biggest  boy  in  their  school.  The  incident  in 
the  novels  is  evidently  taken  from  the  writer's  experience. 


EDUCATION    AT    HOME  I J 

Disraeli  was  a  fighter  from  his  youth,  with  his  fist  first,  as 
with  his  tongue  afterwards.  It  was  characteristic  of  him 
that  he  had  studied  the  art  of  self-defence,  and  was  easily 
able  to  protect  himself.  But  both  his  heroes  were  un- 
popular, and  it  may  be  inferred  that  he  was  not  popular  any 
more  than  they.  The  school  experiment  was  not  a  success 
and  came  to  an  abrupt  end.  Vivian  Grey  was  expelled  ; 
Contarini  left  of  his  own  accord,  because  he  learnt  nothing 
which  he  thought  would  be  of  use  to  him,  and  because  he 
'  detested  school  more  than  he  ever  abhorred  the  world  in 
the  darkest  moment  of  experienced  manhood.'  The  pre- 
cise circumstances  under  which  Disraeli  himself  made  his 
exit  are  not  known  to  me,  but  his  stay  at  Walthamstow 
was  a  brief  one,  and  he  left  to  complete  his  education 
at  home.  His  father,  recollecting  the  troubles  of  his  own 
youth,  abstained  from  rebukes  or  reproaches,  left  him  to 
himself,  helped  him  when  he  could,  and  now  and  then, 
if  we  may  identify  him  with  Vivian,  gave  him  shrewd  and 
useful  advice.  Disraeli  wanted  no  spurring.  He  worked 
for  twelve  hours  a  day,  conscious  that  he  had  singular 
powers  and  passionately  ambitious  to  make  use  of  them. 
He  was  absolutely  free  from  the  loose  habits  so  common  in 
the  years  between  boyhood  and  youth  ;  his  father  had  no 
fault  to  find  with  his  conduct,  which  he  admitted  had  been 
absolutely  correct.  The  anxiety  was  of  another  kind.  He 
did  not  wish  to  interfere  with  his  son's  direction  of  himself, 
but  warned  him,  very  wisely,  '  not  to  consider  himself  a 
peculiar  boy.'  'Take  the  advice,'  said  Mr.  Grey  to  Vivian, 
'  of  one  who  has  committed  as  many — aye,  more — follies  than 
yourself.  Try  to  ascertain  what  may  be  the  chief  objects  of 
your  existence  in  this  world.  I  want  you  to  take  no  theolo- 
gical  dogmas   for  granted,  nor  to   satisfy  your  doubts  by 

c 


1 8  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

ceasing  to  think ;  but  whether  we  are  in  this  world  in  a 
state  of  probation  for  another,  or  whether  at  death  we  cease 
altogether,  human  feelings  tell  me  that  we  have  some  duties 
to  perform  to  our  fellow-creatures,  to  our  friends,  and  to 
ourselves.' 

Disraeli's  conception  of  himself  was  that  he  had  it  in 
him  to  be  a  great  man,  and  that  the  end  of  his  existence 
was  to  make  himself  a  great  man.  With  his  father's  example 
before  him  literature  appeared  the  readiest  road.  Contarini 
when  a  boy  wrote  romances  and  threw  them  into  the  river, 
and  composed  pages  of  satire  or  sentiment  '  and  grew 
intoxicated  with  his  own  eloquence.'  He  pondered  over 
the  music  of  language,  studied  the  cultivation  of  sweet 
words,  and  constructed  elaborate  sentences  in  lonely 
walks,  and  passed  his  days  in  constant  struggle  to  qualify 
himself  for  the  part  which  he  was  determined  to  play  in 
the  game  of  life.  Boyish  pursuits  and  amusements  had 
no  interest  for  him.  In  athletic  games  he  excelled  if 
he  chose  to  exert  himself,  but  he  rarely  did  choose  unless 
it  was  in  the  science  of  self-defence.  He  rode  well  and 
hard,  for  the  motion  stimulated  his  spirits  ;  but  in  galloping 
across  the  country  he  was  charging  in  imagination  the  brooks 
and  fences  in  the  way  of  his  more  ambitious  career. 

This  was  one  side  of  him  in  those  early  years  ;  another 
was  equally  remarkable.  He  intended  to  excel  among  his 
fellow-creatures,  and  to  understand  what  men  and  women 
were  like  was  as  important  to  him  as  to  understand  books. 
The  reputation  of  Vivian  Grey's  father— in  other  words, 
his  own  father — had  always  made  him  an  honoured  guest 
in  the  great  world.  For  this  reason  he  had  been  anxious 
that  his  son  should  be  as  little  at  home  as  possible,  for 
he  feared  for  a  youth  the  fascination  of  London  society. 


THE   YOUNG   DISRAELI  1 9 

This  particular  society  was  what  Disraeli  was  most 
anxious  to  study,  and  was  in  less  danger  from  it  than  his 
father  fancied.  He  was  handsome,  audacious,  and  readily 
made  his  way  into  the  circle  of  the  family  acquaintances. 
1  Contarini  was  a  graceful,  lively  lad,  with  enough  of 
dandyism  to  prevent  him  from  committing  gaucheries,  and 
with  a  devil  of  a  tongue.'  '  He  was  never  at  a  loss  for 
a  compliment  or  a  repartee,' and  'was  absolutely  unchecked 
by  foolish  modesty.'  'The  nervous  vapidity  of  my  first 
rattle,'  says  the  alter  ego  Vivian,  'soon  subsided  into 
a  continuous  flow  of  easy  nonsense.  Impertinent  and 
flippant,  I  was  universally  hailed  as  an  original  and  a  wit. 
I  became  one  of  the  most  affected,  conceited,  and  intoler- 
able atoms  that  ever  peopled  the  sunbeam  of  society.' 
The  purpose  which  lay  behind  Disraeli's  frivolous  outside 
was  as  little  suspected  by  those  who  saw  him  in  the  world 
as  the  energy  with  which  he  was  always  working  in  his 
laborious  hours.  The  stripling  of  seventeen  was  the  same 
person  as  the  statesman  of  seventy,  with  this  difference  only, 
that  the  affectation  which  was  natural  in  the  boy  was  itself 
affected  in  the  matured  politician,  whom  it  served  well  as  a 
mask  or  as  a  suit  of  impenetrable  armour. 


c  2 


20  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   III 

The  Austen  Family— Choice  of  a  Profession— Restlessness— Enters  a 
.  Solicitors  Office  —  '  Vivian  Grey '—  Illness  —  Travels  Abroad  — 
Migration  of  the  Disraelis  to  Bradenham— Literary  Satires  —  '  Popa- 
nilla'— Tour  in  the  East— Gibraltar— Cadiz— Seville— Mountain 
Adventures— Improved  Health— Malta— James  Clay— Greece  — 
Yanina— Redshid  Pasha— Athens  -Constantinople  — Plains  of  Troy 
and  Revolutionary  Epic— Jaffa— Jerusalem— Egypt— Home  Letters 
— Death  of  William  Meredith— Return  to  England. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  the  square  in  which  the  Disraelis 
now  resided  there  lived  a  family  named  Austen,  with  whom 
the  young  Benjamin  became  closely  intimate.  Mr.  Austen 
was  a  solicitor  in  large  practice ;  his  wife  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Northamptonshire  country  gentleman— still  beautiful, 
though  she  had  been  for  some  years  married,  a  brilliant 
conversationalist,  a  fine  musician,  and  an  amateur  artist  of 
considerable  power.  The  house  of  this  lady  was  the  gather- 
ing-place of  the  young  men  of  talent  of  the  age.  She  early 
recognised  the  unusual  character  of  her  friend's  boy.  She 
invited  him  to  her  salons,  talked  to  him,  advised  and  helped 
him.  A  writer  in  the  'Quarterly  Review'  (January  1889), 
apparently  a  connection  of  the  Austens,  remembers  having 
been  taken  by  them  as  a  child  to  call  on  the  Disraelis. 
'Ben,'  then  perhaps  a  school-boy- returned  for  the  holidays, 
was  sent  for,  and  appeared  in  his  shirt-sleeves  with  boxing 
gloves.'     His  future  destination  was  still  uncertain.     Isaac 


DREAMS   AND   AMBITIONS  21 

Disraeli,  who  had  no  great  belief  in  youthful  genius,  disen- 
couraged  his  literary  ambition,  and  was  anxious  to  see  him 
travelling  along  one  of  the  beaten  roads.  Mr.  Austen 
was  probably  of  the  same  opinion.  '  Ben's  '  own  views  on 
this  momentous  subject  are  not  likely  to  have  been  much 
caricatured  in  the  meditations  of  Vivian  Grey. 

1  The  Bar  ! — pooh  !  Law  and  bad  jokes  till  we  are  forty, 
and  then  with  the  most  brilliant  success  the  prospect  of 
gout  and  a  coronet.  Besides,  to  succeed  as  an  advocate  I 
must  be  a  great  lawyer,  and  to  be  a  great  lawyer  I  must 
give  up  my  chances  of  being  a  great  man.  The  "  services  " 
in  war  time  are  fit  only  for  desperadoes  (and  that  truly  am 
I),  and  in  peace  are  fit  only  for  fools.  The  Church  is  more 
rational.  I  should  certainly  like  to  act  Wolsey,  but  the 
thousand  and  one  chances  are  against  me,  and  my  destiny 
should  not  be  a  chance.'  Practical  always  Disraeli  was, 
bent  simply  on  making  his  way,  and  his  way  to  a  great 
position.  No  ignes  fatui  were  likely  to  mislead  him  into 
spiritual  morasses,  no  love-sick  dreams  to  send  him 
wandering  after  imaginary  Paradises.  He  was  as  shrewd 
as  he  was  ambitious,  and  he  took  an  early  measure  of  his 
special  capabilities.  '  Beware,' his  father  had  said  to  him, 
'of  trying  to  be  a  great  man  in  a  hurry.'  His  weakness 
was  impatience.  He  could  not  bear  to  wait.  Byron 
had  blazed  like  a  new  star  at  five-and-twenty  ;  why  not 
he?  Pitt  had  been  Prime  Minister  at  a  still  earlier  age, 
and  of  all  young  Disraeli's  studies  political  history  had 
been  the  most  interesting  to  him.  But  to  rise  in  politics 
he  must  get  into  Parliament,  and  the  aristocrats  who 
condescended  to  dine  in  Bloomsbury  Square,  and  to  laugh 
at  his  impertinence,  were  not  likely  to  promise  him  a  pocket 
borough.     His  father  could  not  afford  to  buy  him  one,  nor 


22  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

would  have  consented  to  squander  money  on  so  wild  a 
prospect.  He  saw  that  to  advance  he  must  depend  upon 
himself  and  must  make  his  way  into  some  financially 
independent  position.  While  chafing  at  the  necessity  he 
rationally  folded  his  wings,  and  on  November  18,  1821,  when 
just  seventeen,  he  was  introduced  into  a  solicitor's  office 
in  Old  Jewry.  Mr.  Maples,  a  member  of  the  firm,  was  an 
old  friend  of  Isaac  Disraeli,  and  to  Mr.  Maples's  department 
'  Ben '  was  attached.  Distasteful  as  the  occupation  must  have 
been  to  him,  he  attached  himself  zealously  to  his  work. 
He  remained  at  his  desk  for  three  years,  and  Mr.  Maples 
described  him  as  '  most  assiduous  in  his  attention  to  busi- 
ness, as  showing  great  ability  in  the  transaction  of  it,'  and  as 
likely,  if  allowed  to  go  to  the  Bar,  to  attain  to  eminence 
there. 

If  the  project  had  been  carried  out  the  anticipation 
would  probably  have  been  verified.  The  qualities  which 
enabled  Disraeli  to  rise  in  the  House  of  Commons  would 
have  lifted  him  as  surely,  and  perhaps  as  rapidly,  into  the 
high  places  of  the  profession.  He  might  have  entered  Parlia- 
ment with  greater  facility  and  with  firmer  ground  under  his 
feet.  He  acquiesced  in  his  father's  wishes  ;  he  was  entered  at 
Lincoln's  Inn,  and  apparently  intended  to  pursue  a  legal 
career;  but  the  Fates  or  his  own  adventurousness  ordered 
his  fortunes  otherwise.  His  work  in  the  office  had  not 
interfered  with  his  social  engagements.  He  met  distin- 
guished people  at  his  father's  table— Wilson  Croker,  then 
Secretary  to  the  Admiralty ;  Samuel  Rogers ;  John  Murray, 
the  proprietor  of  the  'Quarterly  Review,'  and  others  of 
Murray's  brilliant  contributors.  The  Catholic  question  was 
stirring.  There  were  rumours  of  Reform,  and  the  political 
atmosphere  was  growing  hot.     Disraeli  observed,  listened, 


'VIVIAN    GREY'  23 

took  the  measure  of  these  men,  and  thought  he  was  as 
good  as  any  of  them.  He  began  to  write  in  the  news- 
papers. The  experienced  Mr.  Murray  took  notice  of  him 
as  a  person  of  whom  something  considerable  might  be 
made.  These  acquaintances  enabled  him  to  extend  his 
knowledge  of  the  world,  which  began  to  shape  itself  into 
form  and  figure.  To  understand  the  serious  side  of  things 
requires  a  matured  faculty.  The  ridiculous  is  caught 
more  easily.  "With  Mrs.  Austen  for  an  adviser,  and 
perhaps  with  her  assistance,  he  composed  a  book  which, 
however  absurd  in  its  plot  and  glaring  in  its  affectation, 
revealed  at  once  that  a  new  writer  had  started  into  being, 
who  would  make  his  mark  on  men  and  things.  That  a 
solicitor's  clerk  of  twenty  should  be  able  to  produce  '  Vivian 
Grey  '  is  not,  perhaps,  more  astonishing  than  that  Dickens, 
at  little  more  than  the  same  age,  should  have  written 
'  Pickwick.'  All  depends  on  the  eye.  Most  of  us  encounter 
every  day  materials  for  a  comedy  if  we  could  only  see  them. 
But  genius  is  wanted  for  it,  and  the  thing,  when  accom- 
plished, proves  that  genius  has  been  at  work. 

The  motto  of  Vivian  Grey  was  sufficiently  impudent  : 

Why,  then,  the  world's  mine  oyster, 
Which  with  my  sword  I'll  open. 

The  central  figure  is  the  author  himself  caricaturing  his 
own  impertinence  and  bringing  on  his  head  deserved  retri- 
bution ;  but  the  sarcasm,  the  strength  of  hand,  the 
audacious  personalities  caught  the  attention  of  the  public, 
and  gave  him  at  once  the  notoriety  which  he  desired. 
'Vivian'  was  the  book  of  the  season;  everyone  read  it, 
everyone  talked  about  it,  and  keys  were  published  of  the 
characters  who  were  satirised.     Disraeli,  like  Byron,  went 


^ 


24  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

to  sleep  a  nameless  youth  of  twenty-one  and  woke  to  find 
himself  famous. 

A  successful  novel  may  be  gratifying  to  vanity,  but  it 
is  a  bad  introduction  to  a  learned  profession.  Attorneys 
prefer  barristers  who  stick  to  business  and  do  not  expatiate 
into  literature.  A  single  fault  might  be  overlooked,  and 
'  Vivian  Grey  '  be  forgotten  before  its  author  could  put  on 
his  wig,  but  a  more  serious  cause  interrupted  his  legal 
progress.  He  was  overtaken  by  a  singular  disorder,  which 
disabled  him  from  serious  work.  He  had  fits  of  giddiness, 
which  he  described  as  like  a  consciousness  of  the  earth's 
rotation.  Once  he  fell  into  a  trance,  from  which  he  did  not 
completely  recover  for  a  week.  He  was  recommended  to 
travel,  and  the  Austens  took  him  abroad  with  them  for  a 
summer  tour.  They  went  to  Paris,  to  Switzerland,  to 
Milan,  \Tenice,  Florence,  Geneva,  and  back  over  Mont 
Cenis  into  France.  His  health  became  better,  but  was  not 
re-established,  and  he  returned  to  his  family  still  an  invalid. 

The  '  law  '  was  postponed,  but  not  yet  abandoned.  In 
a  letter  to  his  father,  written  in  1832,  he  spoke  of  his  illness 
as  having  robbed  him  of  five  years  of  life;  as  if  this,  and 
this  alone,  had  prevented  him  from  going  on  with  his 
profession.  Meanwhile  there  was  a  complete  change  in  the 
outward  circumstances  of  the  Disraeli  household.  Isaac 
Disraeli,  who  had  the  confirmed  habits  of  a  Londoner, 
whose  days  had  been  spent  in  libraries  and  his  evenings  in 
literary  society,  for  some  reason  or  other  chose  to  alter  the 
entire  character  of  his  existence.  Like  Ferrars  in  '  Endymion,' 
though  not  for  the  same  cause,  he  tore  himself  away  from 
all  his  associations  and  withdrew  with  his  wife  and  children  to 
an  old  manor  house  in  Buckinghamshire,  two  miles  from  High 
Wycombe.  Bradenham,  their  new  home,  is  exactly  described 


P.RADENIIAM  2  5 

in  the  account  which  Disraeli  gives  of  the  Ferrars's  place  of 
retirement ;  and  perhaps  their  first  arrival  there  and  their 
gipsy-like  encampment  in  the  old  hall,  the  sense,  half- 
realised,  that  they  were  being  taken  away  from  all  their  in- 
terests and  associations,  may  equally  have  been  drawn  from 
memory.  The  Disraelis,  however,  contrived  happily  enough 
to  fit  themselves  to  their  new  existence.  Disraeli  all 
through  his  life  delighted  in  the  country  and  country  scenes 
The  dilapidated  manor  house  was  large  and  picturesque. 
The  land  round  it  was  open  down,  or  covered  thinly  with 
scrub  and  woods.  They  had  horses  and  could  gallop  where 
they  pleased.  They  had  their  dogs  and  their  farmyard  ; 
they  made  new  friends  among  the  tenantry  and  the 
labourers.  Disraeli's  head  continued  to  trouble  him,  but 
the  air  and  the  hills  gave  him  his  best  chance  of  recovery. 
His  father,  contented  with  an  occasional  lecture,  left  him  to 
himself.  He  was  devoted  to  his  mother  and  passionately 
attached  to  his  sister.  Altogether  nothing  could  be  calmer, 
nothing  more  affectionately  peaceful  than  the  two  or  three 
years  which  he  passed  at  Bradenham  after  this  migration. 
Though  he  could  not  study  in  London  chambers,  he  could 
read  and  he  could  write,  and  over  his  writing  he  worked 
indefatigably,  if  not  with  great  success.  He  added  a 
second  part  to  'Vivian  Grey.'  Clever  it  could  not  help 
being,  but  it  had  not  the  flavour  of  the  first.  He  wrote  the 
'  Young  Duke,'  a  flashy  picture  of  high  society  which  might 
have  passed  muster  as  the  ephemeral  production  of  an 
ordinary  novelist.  Neither  of  these,  however,  indicated 
any  literary  advance,  nor  did  he  himself  attach  any  value 
to  them.  In  a  happier  interval,  perhaps,  when  he  had  a 
respite  from  his  headaches,  he  threw  off  three  light  satires, 
which,  with  one  exception,  are  the  most  brilliant  of  all  his 


26  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

productions.  '  Ixion  in  Heaven '  is  taken  from  the  story  of 
the  King  of  Thessaly  who  was  carried  to  Olympus  and  fell 
in  love  with  the  queen  of  the  gods.  Disraeli's  classical  know- 
ledge probably  went  no  farther  than  Lempriere's  Dictionary, 
but  Lempriere  gave  him  all  that  he  wanted.  The  form  and 
tone  are  like  Lucian's,  and  the  execution  almost  as  good. 
No  characters  in  real  life  are  more  vivid  than  those  which 
he  draws  of  the  high-bred  divinities  at  the  court  of  the 
Father  of  the  gods,  while  the  Father  himself  is  George  IV. 
Apollo  Byron,  and  the  ladies  well-known  ornaments  of  the 
circles  of  the  Olympians  of  May  Fair. 

Equally  good  is  the  '  Infernal  Marriage,'  the  rape  of 
Proserpine  and  her  adventures  in  her  dominions  below. 
The  wit  which  we  never  miss  in  Disraeli  rises  here  into 
humour  which  is  rare  with  him,  and  a  deeper  current  of 
thought  can  be  traced  when  the  Queen  of  Hell  pays  a 
visit  to  Elysium,  finding  there  the  few  thousand  families 
who  spend  their  time  in  the  splendid  luxury  of  absolute 
idleness;  high-born,  graceful  beings  without  a  duty  to 
perform,  supported  by  the  toil  of  a  million  gnomes,  and 
after  exhausting  every  form  of  amusement  ready  to  perish 
of  ennui. 

The  third  fragment,  written  in  these  years,  which  Lord 
Beaconsfield  included  in  his  collected  works  (he  probably 
wrote  others  which  are  lost  in  the  quicksands  of  keepsakes 
and  annuals)  was  '  Popanilla,'  a  satire  on  the  English  Consti- 
tution. He  has  changed  his  manner  from  Lucian's  to 
Swift's.  '  Popanilla  '  might  have  been  another  venture  of 
Mr.  Lemuel  Gulliver  if  there  had  been  malice  in  it.  The 
satire  of  Swift  is  inspired  by  hatred  and  scorn  of  his  race. 
The  satire  of  Disraeli  is  pleasant,  laughing,  and  good- 
humoured.     In  all  his  life  he  never  hated  anybody  or  any- 


POLITICAL   SATIRES  2J 

thing,  never  bore  a  grudge  or  remembered  a  libel  against 
himself.  Popanilla  is  a  native  of  an  unknown  island  in  an 
unknown  part  of  the  Pacific,  an  island  where  modern 
civilisation  had  never  penetrated  and  life  was  a  round  of 
ignorant  and  innocent  enjoyment.  In  an  evil  hour  a  strange 
ship  is  wrecked  upon  the  shore.  A  box  of  books  is  flung 
up  upon  the  sands,  books  of  useful  knowledge  intended  for 
the  amelioration  of  mankind,  spiritual,  social,  moral,  and 
political.  Popanilla  finds  it,  opens  it,  and  with  the  help  of 
these  moral  lights  sets  to  work  to  regenerate  his  countrymen. 
He  makes  himself  a  nuisance,  and  is  sent  floating  in  a 
canoe  which  carries  him  to  Vray  Bleusia,  or  modern 
England.  Being  a  novelty,  he  is  enthusiastically  welcomed, 
becomes  a  lion,  and  is  introduced  to  the  charms  and 
wonders  of  complicated  artificial  society.  The  interest  is 
in  the  light  which  is  thrown  on  Disraeli's  studies  of  English 
politics.  The  chapter  on  '  Fruit '  is  a  humorously  correct 
sketch  of  the  Anglican  Church.  Mr.  Flummery  Flum  re- 
presents political  economy,  and  the  picture  of  him  betrays 
Disraeli's  contempt  for  that  once  celebrated  science,  now 
relegated  to  the  exterior  planets.  '  Popanilla '  can  be  still 
read  with  pleasure  as  a  mere  work  of  fancy.  It  has  more 
serious  value  to  the  student  of  Disraeli's  character.  As  a 
man  of  letters  he  shows  at  his  best  in  writings  of  this  kind. 
His  interest  in  the  life  which  he  describes  in  his  early 
novels  was  only  superficial,  and  he  could  not  give  to  others 
what  he  did  not  feel.  In  'Ixion,'  in  the  '  Infernal  Marriage,' 
in  'Popanilla'  we  have  his  real  mind,  and  matter,  style,  and 
manner  are  equally  admirable. 

His  future  was  still  undetermined.  I  lis  father  continued 
eager  to  see  him  at  the  Par,  but  his  health  remained  delicate 
and  his  disinclination  more  and  more  decided.     There  was 


23  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

a  thought  of  buying  an  estate  for  him  and  setting  him  up 
as  a  country  gentleman.  But  to  be  a  small  squire  was  a 
poor  object  of  ambition.  He  wished  to  travel,  travel  especi- 
ally in  the  East,  to  which  his  semi-Asiatic  temperament  gave 
him  a  feeling  of  affinity.  The  Holy  Land,  as  the  seat  of 
his  own  race,  affected  his  imagination.  He  had  a  romantic 
side  in  his  mind  in  a  passion  for  Jerusalem.  His  intellect 
had  been  moulded  by  the  sceptical  philosophy  of  his 
fathers  ;  but,  let  sceptics  say  what  they  would,  a  force  which 
had  gone  out  from  Jerusalem  had  governed  the  fate  of  the 
modern  world. 

His  desire,  when  he  first  made  it  known,  was  not 
encouraged.  '  My  wishes,'  he  said,  '  were  knocked  on  the 
head  in  a  calmer  manner  than  I  could  have  expected  from 
my  somewhat  rapid  but  too  indulgent  sire.'  He  lingered  on 
at  Bradenham  till  even  his  literary  work  had  to  end.  He 
could  not  '  write  a  line  without  effort,'  and  he  wandered 
aimlessly  about  the  woods  ;  '  solitude  and  silence '  not 
making  his  existence  easy,  but  at  least  tolerable. 

The  objection  to  his  travelling  had  been  perhaps 
financial.  If  this  was  the  difficulty  it  was  removed  by  his 
friends  the  Austens,  who,  we  are  briefly  told,  came  to  his 
assistance  and  enabled  him  to  carry  out  his  purpose.  He 
found  a  companion  ready  to  go  with  him  in  Mr.  William 
Meredith,  a  young  man  of  talent  and  good  fortune  who 
was  engaged  to  be  married  to  his  sister.  They  started  in 
June  1830,  and  their  adventures  are  related  in  a  series  of 
brilliant  and  charming  letters  to  his  family,  letters  which  show 
the  young  Disraeli  no  longer  in  the  mythological  drapery  of 
1  Vivian  Grey  '  and  '  Contarini  Fleming,'  but  under  his  own 
hand  as  he  actually  was.  Spain  was  their  first  object.  The 
Disraelis  retained  their  pride  in  their  Spanish  descent  in  a 


FOREIGN    TOUR  29 

dim  and  distant  fashion,  and  had  not  forgotten  that  in  right 
of  blood  they  were  still  Spanish  nobles.  Steam  navigation 
was  in  its  infancy,  but  small  paddle-wheeled  vessels  ran 
from  London  to  Cork  and  Dublin,  touching  at  Falmouth, 
from  which  outward-bound  ships  took  their  departure. 
They  reached  Falmouth  with  no  worse  adventure  than  a 
rough  passage,  and  Disraeli  was  nattered  to  find  that  the 
family  fame  had  so  far  preceded  him.  He  met  a  Dr. 
Cornish  there,  who  was  full  of  admiration  for  'Vivian  Grey,' 
1  knows  my  father's  works  by  heart  and  thinks  our  revered 
sire  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived.'  From  Gibraltar  on 
July  1  he  wrote  to  his  father  himself: — 

'The  rock  is  a  wonderful  place,  with  a  population 
infinitely  diversified — Moors  with  costumes  radiant  as  a 
rainbow  in  an  Eastern  melodrama,  Jews  with  gabardines  and 
skull  caps,  Genoese  highlanders  and  Spaniards  whose  dress 
is  as  picturesque  as  those  of  the  sons  of  Ivor.  ...  In  the 
garrison  are  all  your  works,  in  the  merchants'  library  the 
greater  part.  Each  possesses  the  copy  of  another  book 
supposed  to  be  written  by  a  member  of  our  family  which  is 
looked  upon  at  Gibraltar  as  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  At  first  I  apologised  and  talked  of 
youthful  blunders  and  all  that,  really  being  ashamed,  but 
finding  them,  to  my  astonishment,  sincere,  and  fearing  they 
were  stupid  enough  to  adopt  my  last  opinion,  I  shifted  my 
position  just  in  time,  looked  very  grand,  and  passed  myself 
off  for  a  child  of  the  sun,  like  the  Spaniards  in  Peru.' 

Government  House  opened  its  hospitalities.    Sir  George 

1  I  ,  a  proud,  aristocratic,  but  vigorous  old  man,  was  not 

a  person  likely  to  find  such  a  pair  of  travellers  particularly 
welcome  to  him.  Disraeli's  affectations  of  dress  and  man- 
ner approached  vulgarity,  and  Meredith,  though  a  superior 


30  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

person,  was  equally  absurd  in  this  respect.  But  Disraeli,  at 
any  rate  where  he  cared  to  please,  never  failed  to  make  himself 
liked.  Sir  George  was  polite,  Lady  D.  more  than  polite. 
Though  she  was  old  and  infirm,  '  her  eyes  were  so  brilliant 
and  so  full  of  moquerie  that  you  forgot  her  wrinkles.'  Of 
course  they  were  welcome  guests  in  the  regimental  mess- 
rooms,  clever  young  civilians  who  could  talk  and  were  men 
of  the  world  being  an  agreeable  change  in  the  professional 
monotony,  though  perhaps  the  visitors  mistook  to  some 
extent  the  impression  which  they  produced. 

'  Tell  my  mother,'  Disraeli  wrote,  '  that  as  it  is  the 
fashion  among  the  dandies  of  this  place  (that  is,  the  officers, 
for  there  are  no  others)  not  to  wear  waistcoats  in  the 
morning,  her  new  studs  come  into  fine  play  and  maintain 
my  reputation  for  being  a  great  judge  of  costume,  to  the 
admiration  and  envy  of  many  subalterns.  I  have  also  the 
fame  of  being  the  first  who  ever  passed  the  Straits  with  two 
canes,  a  morning  and  an  evening  cane.  I  change  my  cane 
on  the  gun-fire  and  hope  to  carry  them  both  on  to  Cairo. 
It  is  wonderful  the  effect  those  magical  wands  produce.  I 
owe  to  them  even  more  attention  than  to  being  the  supposed 
author  of — what  is  it  ?     I  forget.' 

With  Gibraltar  for  head-quarters  they  made  excursions 
into  the  Spanish  territory ;  the  first  through  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  on  a  route  arranged  for  them  by  the  governor. 
Travelling  was  dangerous,  and  accommodation  no  better 
than  at  Don  Quixote's  enchanted  castle.  The  banditti 
were  everywhere.  Two  Englishmen  had  just  arrived  from 
Cadiz  whom  Jose  Maria  had  stopped  and  rifled  on  the  way. 
The  danger  was  exciting.  They  set  out  in  the  long  hot 
days  of  July,  taking  a  model  valet  with  them.  Brunet 
had  been  all  over  the  world  and  spoke  all  languages  except 


ADVENTURES   IN    SPAIN  3 1 

English.  Their  baggage  was  of  the  slightest,  not  to  tempt 
Jose  Maria,  Disraeli  confining  himself  to  'the  red  bag' 
which  his  mother  had  made  for  his  pistols. 

'  We  were  picturesque  enough  in  our  appearance,'  he 
wrote.  '  Imagine  M.  and  myself  on  two  little  Andalusian 
mountain  horses  with  long  tails  and  jennet  necks,  followed 
by  a  large  beast  of  burden,  with  Brunet  in  white  hat  and 
slippers,  lively,  shrivelled,  and  noisy  as  a  pea  dancing  upon 
tin  ;  our  Spanish  guide,  tall  and  with  a  dress  excessively 
brodc  and  covered  with  brilliant  buttons,  walking  by  the 
side.  The  air  of  the  mountains,  the  rising  sun,  the  rising 
appetite,  the  variety  of  picturesque  persons  and  things  we 
met,  and  the  impending  danger  made  a  delightful  life,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  great  enemy  I  should  have  given 
myself  up  entirely  to  the  magic  of  the  life.  But  that 
spoiled  all.  It  is  not  worse.  Sometimes  I  think  it  lighter 
about  the  head,  but  the  palpitation  about  the  heart  greatly 
increases ;  otherwise  my  health  is  wonderful.  Never  have 
I  been  better.  But  what  use  is  this  when  the  end  of  all 
existence  is  debarred  me  ?  I  say  no  more  upon  this  melan- 
choly subject,  by  which  I  am  ever  and  infinitely  depressed, 
and  often  most  so  when  the  world  least  imagines  it.  To 
complain  is  useless  and  to  endure  almost  impossible.' 

Jose  Maria  was  in  everyone's  mouth,  but  the  travellers  did 
not  fall  in  with  him.  After  a  week  they  were  again  enjoying 
the  hospitalities  of  Gibraltar.  The  climate,  the  exercise,  the 
novelty  were  all  delightful.  Disraeli  was  a  child  of  the  sun, 
as  he  often  said  of  himself.  His  health  mended  and  his 
spirits  rose.  He  wore  his  hair  in  long  curls.  The  women, 
he  said,  mistook  it  for  a  wig,  and  '  I  was  obliged  to  let  them 
pull  it  to  satisfy  their  curiosity.'  The  Judge  Advocate 
buttonholed    him.       '  I    found    him   a   bore    and    vulgar. 


32  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Consequently  I  gave  him  a  lecture  upon  canes,  which  made 
him  stare,  and  he  has  avoided  me  ever  since.'  But  every- 
one liked  Disraeli.  '  Wherever  I  go,'  he  said,  '  I  find  plenty 
of  friends  and  plenty  of  attention.'  He  had  not  come  to 
Spain  to  linger  in  a  garrison  town.  The  two  friends  were 
soon  off  again  for  a  ride  through  Andalusia.  Cadiz  was 
enchanting  with  its  white  houses  and  green  jalousies  spark- 
ling in  the  sun  ;  '  Figaro  in  every  street  and  Rosina  in 
every  balcony.'  He  saw  a  bull-fight  ;  he  was  introduced  to 
the  Spanish  authorities,  and  conducted  himself  with  Vivian 
Grey-like  impudence.  'Fleuriz,  the  governor  of  Cadi?,'  he 
wrote,  '  is  a  singular  brute.  The  English  complain  that 
when  they  are  presented  to  him  he  bows  and  says  nothing. 
The  consul  announced  me  to  him  as  the  son  of  the  greatest 
author  in  England  ;  the  usual  reception,  however,  only 
greeted  me.  But  I,  being  prepared  for  the  savage,  was  by 
no  means  silent,  and  made  him  stare  for  half  an  hour  in 
a  most  extraordinary  manner.  He  was  sitting  over  some 
prints  just  arrived  from  England — a  view  of  Algiers  and — 
the  fashions  for  June.  The  question  was  whether  the  place 
was  Algiers,  for  it  had  no  title.  I  ventured  to  inform  his 
Excellency  that  it  was,  and  that  a  group  of  gentlemen  dis- 
playing their  extraordinary  coats  and  countenances  were 
personages  no  less  eminent  than  the  Dey  and  his  principal 
councillors  of  State.  The  dull  Fleuriz,  after  due  examination, 
insinuated  scepticism,  whereupon  I  offered  renewed  argu- 
ments to  prove  the  dress  to  be  Moorish.  Fleuriz  calls  a 
young  lady  to  translate  the  inscription,  which  proves  only 
that  they  are  fashions  for  June.  I  add  at  Algiers.  Fleuriz, 
unable  to  comprehend  badinage,  gives  a  Mashallah  look  of 
pious  resignation,  and  has  bowed  to  the  ground  every  night 
since  that  he  has  met  me.' 


ADVENTURES    IN    SPAIN  33 

After  Cadiz  Seville,  and  then  Malaga.  Brigands  every- 
where, but  not  caring  to  meddle  with  travellers  who  had  so 
little  with  them  worth  plundering.  Once  only  there  was 
alarm.  '  We  saved  ourselves  by  a  moonlight  scamper  and 
a  change  of  road.'  An  adventure,  however,  they  had  at 
Malaga  which  recalls  Washington  Irving's  story  of  the  inn 
at  Terracina,  with  this  difference,  that  Disraeli  and  his  com- 
panion did  not  show  the  gallantry  of  Irving's  English  hero. 

1 1  was  invited,'  he  says,  '  by  a  grand  lady  of  Madrid  to 
join  her  escort  to  Granada,  twenty  foot-soldiers  armed,  and 
tirailleurs  in  the  shape  of  a  dozen  muleteers.  We  refused, 
for  reasons  too  long  to  detail,  and  set  off  alone  two  hours 
before,  expecting  an  assault.  I  should  tell  you  we  dined 
previously  with  her  and  her  husband,  having  agreed  to  meet 
to  discuss  matters.  It  was  a  truly  Gil  Bias  scene.  My 
lord,  in  an  undress  uniform,  slightly  imposing  in  appearance, 
greeted  us  with  dignity  ;  the  sehora  young  and  really  very 
pretty,  with  infinite  vivacity  and  grace.  A  French  valet 
leant  on  his  chair,  and  a  dueha  such  as  Staphenaff  would 
draw,  broad  and  supercilious,  with  jet  eyes,  mahogany  com- 
plexion, and  a  cocked  up  nose,  stood  by  my  lady  bearing  a 
large  fan.  She  was  most  complaisant,  as  she  evidently  had 
more  confidence  in  two  thick-headed  Englishmen  with 
their  Purdeys  and  Mantons  than  in  her  specimens  of  the 
once  famous  Spanish  infantry.  She  did  not  know  that  we 
were  cowards  upon  principle.  I  could  screw  up  my  courage 
to  a  duel  in  a  battle  —but ' 

In  short,  in  spite  of  the  lady's  charms  and  their  united 
eloquence,  Disraeli  and  Meredith  determined  to  start  alone. 
They  had  learnt  that  a  strong  band  of  brigands  were  lying 
in  wait  for  the  noble  pair.  They  took  a  cross  road,  lost 
their  way,  and  slept  with  pack-saddles  for  pillows,  but  reached 

D 


34  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Granada  without  an  interview  with  Jose.  A  fine  description 
of  Granada  and  Saracenic  architecture  was  sent  home  from 
the  spot.  In  return  Disraeli  requires  his  sister  to  '  tell  him 
all  about  Bradenham — about  dogs  and  horses,  orchards, 
gardens  ;  who  calls,  where  you  go,  who  my  father  sees  in 
London,  what  is  said.'  '  This  is  what  I  want,'  he  writes  ; 
'  never  mind  public  news.  There  is  no  place  like  Braden- 
ham, and  each  moment  I  feel  better  I  want  to  come  back.' 

Affectation,  light-heartedness,  and  warm  home  feelings 
are  strangely  mixed  in  all  this ;  and  no  one  of  his  changing 
moods  is  what  might  be  expected  in  a  pilgrim  to  Jerusalem 
in  search  of  spiritual  light.  But  this  was  Disraeli — a  cha- 
racter genuine  and  affectionate,  whose  fine  gifts  were  veiled 
in  foppery  which  itself  was  more  than  half  assumed.  His 
real  serious  feeling  comes  out  prettily  in  a  passage  in  which 
he  sums  up  his  Peninsular  experiences.  '  Spain  is  the 
country  for  adventure.  A  weak  government  resolves  society 
into  its  original  elements,  and  robbery  becomes  more 
honourable  than  war,  inasmuch  as  the  robber  is  paid  and 
the  soldier  is  in  arrears.  A  wonderful  ecclesiastical  esta- 
blishment covers  the  land  with  a  privileged  class.  ...  I 
say  nothing  of  their  costume.  You  are  wakened  from  your 
slumbers  by  the  rosarw,  the  singing  procession  by  which 
the  peasantry  congregate  to  their  labours.  It  is  most 
effective,  full  of  noble  chants  and  melodious  responses,  that 
break  upon  the  still  fresh  air  and  your  ever  fresher  feelings 
in  a  manner  truly  magical.  Oh,  wonderful  Spain !  I 
thought  enthusiasm  was  dead  within  me  and  nothing  could 
be  new.  I  have  hit,  perhaps,  upon  the  only  country  which 
could  have  upset  my  theory,  a  country  of  which  I  have 
read  little  and  thought  nothing.' 

Health  was  really  mending.     '  This  last  fortnight,'  he 


MALTA  35 

says,  '  I  have  made  regular  progress,  or  rather  felt,  perhaps, 
the  progress  which  I  had  already  made.  It  is  all  the  sun — 
not  society  or  change  of  scene.  This,  however  agreeable, 
is  too  much  for  me  and  ever  turns  me  back.  It  is  when 
I  am  alone  and  still  that  I  feel  the  difference  of  my  system, 
that  I  miss  the  old  aches  and  am  conscious  of  the  increased 
activity  and  vitality  and  expansion  of  the  blood.' 

After  Spain  Malta  was  the  next  halting-place ;  Malta, 
with  its  garrison  and  military  society,  was  Gibraltar  over 
again,  with  only  this  difference,  that  Disraeli  fell  in  with  a 
London  acquaintance  there  in  James  Clay,  afterwards 
member  for  Hull  and  a  figure  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

The  arrival  of  a  notoriety  was  an  incident  in  the 
uniformity  of  Maltese  existence.  'They  have  been  long 
expecting  your  worship's  offspring,'  he  tells  his  father,  '  so  I 
was  received  with  branches  of  palm.'  He  accepted  his 
honours  with  easy  superiority.  '  To  govern  men,'  he  said, 
'  you  must  either  excel  them  in  their  accomplishments  or 
despise  them.  Clay  does  one,  I  do  the  other,  and  we  are 
both  equally  popular.  Affectation  here  tells  better  than 
wit.  Yesterday  at  the  racket  court,  sitting  in  the  gallery 
among  strangers,  the  ball  entered  and  lightly  struck  me  and 
fell  at  my  feet.  I  picked  it  up,  and  observing  a  young  rifle- 
man excessively  stiff,  I  humbly  requested  him  to  forward  its 
passage  into  the  court,  as  I  really  had  never  thrown  a  ball  in 
my  life.  ...  I  called  on  the  Governor,  and  he  was  fortunately 
at  home.  I  flatter  myself  that  he  passed  through  the  most 
extraordinary  quarter  of  an  hour  of  his  existence.  I  gave 
him  no  quarter,  and  at  last  made  our  nonchalant  Governor 
roll  on  the  sofa  from  his  risible  convulsions.  Clay  confesses 
my  triumph  is  complete  and  unrivalled.' 

'  I  continue  much  the  same,'  he  reported  of  himself — 

D  2 


36  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

'  still  infirm  but  no  longer  destitute  of  hope.  I  wander  in 
pursuit  of  health  like  the  immortal  exile  in  pursuit  of  that 
lost  shore  which  is  now  almost  glittering  in  my  sight.  Five 
years  of  my  life  have  been  already  wasted,  and  sometimes 
I  think  my  pilgrimage  may  be  as  long  as  that  of  Ulysses.' 
Like  the  Greek  he  was  exposed  to  temptations  from  the 
Circes  and  the  Sirens,  but  he  understood  the  symptoms  and 

knew  where  to  look  for  safety.     '  There  is  a  Mrs. here 

in  Malta,'  he  writes  to  Ralph  Disraeli,  'with  a  pretty 
daughter,  cum  multis  aliis ;  I  am  sorry  to  say,  among  them 
a  beauty  very  dangerous  to  the  peace  of  your  unhappy 
brother.  But  no  more  of  that.  In  a  few  weeks  I  shall  be 
bounding,  and  perhaps  sea-sick,  upon  the  Egean,  and  then 
all  will  be  over.     Nothing  like  an  emetic  in  these  cases.' 

James  Clay  was  rich,  and  had  provided  a  yacht  in  which, 
with  the  Byronic  fever  on  him,  he  professed  to  intend  to 
turn  corsair.  He  invited  Disraeli  and  Meredith  to  join 
him,  and  they  sailed  for  Corfu  in  October  equipped  for 
enterprise.  'You  should  see  me,'  he  said,  'in  the  costume 
of  a  Greek  pirate — a  blood-red  shirt  with  silver  studs  as  big 
as  shillings,  an  immense  scarf  for  girdle,  full  of  pistols  and 
daggers,  red  cap,  red  slippers,  broad  blue-striped  jacket  and 
trowsers.'  '  Adventures  are  to  the  adventurous  ; '  so  Ixion 
had  written  in  Athene's  album.  Albania  was  in  insurrec- 
tion. Unlike  Byron,  whom  he  was  supposed  to  imitate 
Disraeli  preferred  the  Turks  to  the  Greeks  whom  he 
despised,  and  thought  for  a  moment  of  joining  Redshid's 
army  as  a  volunteer,  to  see  what  war  was  like.  When  they 
reached  Corfu  the  rebellion  was  already  crushed,  but 
Redshid  was  still  at  Yanina,  the  Albanian  capital,  and  he 
decided  at  least  to  pay  the  Grand  Vizier  a  visit.  The  yacht 
took  them  to  Salora.     There  they  landed,  and  proceeded 


ALBANIAN    RIDE  37 

through  the  mountains  with  a  handful  of  horse  for  an  escort. 
They  halted  the  first  night  at  Arta,  '  a  beautiful  town  now 
in  ruins.'  '  Here,'  he  said,  'for  the  first  time  I  reposed 
upon  a  divan,  and  for  the  first  time  heard  a  muezzin  from 
a  minaret.'  In  the  morning  they  waited  on  the  Turkish 
governor.  '  I  cannot  describe  to  you,'  he  wrote  in  a 
humorous  description  of  his  interview,  'the  awe  with 
which  I  first  entered  the  divan  of  a  great  Turk,  and  the 
curious  feeling  with  which  I  found  myself  squatting  on  the 
right  hand  of  a  bey,  smoking  an  amber-mouthed  chibouque, 
drinking  coffee,  and  paying  him  compliments  through  an 
interpreter.' 

The  Turks  had  been  kind  to  his  own  race  at  a  time 
when  Jews  had  no  other  friends,  and  from  the  first  Disraeli 
had  an  evident  liking  for  them.  They  set  out  again  after 
a  few  hours.  '  We  journeyed  over  a  wild  mountain  pass,' 
the  diary  continues,  'a  range  of  ancient  Pindus,  and  before 
sunset  we  found  ourselves  at  a  vast  but  dilapidated  khan 
as  big  as  a  Gothic  castle,  situated  on  a  high  range,  built  as 
a  sort  of  half-way  house  for  travellers  by  Ali  Pasha,  now 
turned  into  a  military  post.'  They  were  received  by  a  bey, 
who  provided  quarters  for  them.  They  were  ravenously 
hungry  ;  but  the  bey  could  not  understand  their  language, 
nor  they  his.  He  offered  them  wine ;  they  produced  brandy, 
and  communication  was  thus  established.  '  The  bey  drank 
all  the  brandy  ;  the  room  turned  round  ;  the  wild  attendants 
who  sat  at  our  feet  seemed  dancing  in  strange  and  fantastic 
whirls.  The  bey  shook  hands  with  me  ;  he  shouted  English, 
I  Greek.  "  Very  good,"  he  had  caught  up  from  us.  "  Kalo, 
kalo,"  was  my  rejoinder.  He  roared  ;  I  smacked  him  on  the 
back.  I  remember  no  more.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
I  woke,  found  a  flagon  of  water,  and  drank  a  gallon  at  a 


33  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

draught.  I  looked  at  the  wood  fire  and  thought  of  the  blazing 
blocks  in  the  hall  at  Bradenham ;  asked  myself  whether  I 
was  indeed  in  the  mountain  fortress  of  an  Albanian  chief, 
and  shrugging  my  shoulders  went  to  bed  and  woke  without 
a  headache.  We  left  our  jolly  host  with  regret.  I  gave 
him  my  pipe  as  a  memorial  of  our  having  got  tipsy 
together.' 

At  Yanina  they  found  the  Turkish  army  quartered  in 
the  ruins  of  the  town.  The  Grand  Vizier  occupied  the 
castle  with  the  double  dignity  of  a  prince  and  a  general. 
He  was  surrounded  with  state,  and  they  were  made  to  wait 
ten  minutes  before  they  could  be  admitted  to  his  presence. 

'  Suddenly  we  are  summoned  to  the  awful  presence  ot 
the  pillar  of  the  Turkish  Empire,  the  renowned  Redshid ; 
an  approved  warrior,  a  consummate  politician,  unrivalled  as 
a  dissembler  in  a  country  where  dissimulation  is  part  of 
the  moral  culture.  .  .  .  The  hall  was  vast,  covered  with 
gilding  and  arabesques.  .  .  .  Here,  squatted  up  in  a  corner 
of  a  large  divan,  I  bowed  with  all  the  nonchalance  of 
St.  James's  Street  to  a  little  ferocious -looking,  shrivelled, 
careworn  man,  plainly  dressed,  with  a  brow  covered  with 
wrinkles  and  a  countenance  clouded  with  anxiety  and 
thought.  ...  I  seated  myself  on  the  divan  of  the  Grand 
Vizier,  who,  the  Austrian  consul  observed,  "  had  destroyed 
in  the  course  of  the  last  three  months,  not  in  war,  upwards 
of  4,000  of  my  acquaintance,"  with  the  self-possession  of 
a  morning  call.  Some  compliments  passed  between  us. 
Pipes  and  coffee  were  brought.  Then  his  Highness  waved 
his  hand,  and  in  an  instant  the  chambers  were  cleared. 
Our  conversation  I  need  not  repeat.  We  congratulated  him 
on  the  pacification  of  Albania.  He  rejoined  that  the  peace 
of  the  world  was  his  only  object  and  the  happiness  of  man- 


VAN IN A  39 

kind  his  only  wish.  This  went  on  for  the  usual  time.  He 
asked  us  no  questions  about  ourselves  or  our  country,  as  the 
other  Turks  did,  but  seemed  quite  overwhelmed  with  busi- 
ness, moody  and  anxious.  While  we  were  with  him  three 
separate  Tartars  arrived  with  despatches.  What  a  life  !  .  .  . 
I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  with  the  united  assistance  of  my 
English,  Spanish,  and  fancy  wardrobe  I  sported  a  costume 
in  Yanina  which  produced  a  most  extraordinary  effect  on 
that  costume-loving  people.  A  great  many  Turks  called  on 
purpose  to  see  it.  "  Questo  vestito  Inglese,  o  di  fantasia?" 
asked  a  little  Greek  physician.  I  oracularly  replied,  "  Inglese 
e  fantastico." ' 

Had  the  Greek  physician  enquired  not  about  the  vestito, 
but  about  the  wearer  of  it,  the  answer  might  have  been  the 
same. 

The  account  of  this  visit  to  Yanina  was  composed  after 
the  return  of  the  party  to  the  yacht.  Here  is  a  description 
in  Disraeli's  other  manner  : — 

'I  write  you  this  from  that  Ambracian  gulf  where  the 
soft  triumvir  gained  more  glory  by  defeat  than  attends  the 
victory  of  harsher  warriors.  The  site  is  not  unworthy  of  the 
beauty  of  Cleopatra.  From  the  summit  of  the  land  the 
gulf  appears  like  a  vast  lake  walled  in  on  all  sides  by  moun- 
tains more  or  less  distant.  The  dying  glory  of  a  Grecian 
eve  bathes  with  warm  light  promontories  and  gentle  bays 
and  infinite  modulation  of  purple  outline.  Before  me  is 
Olympus,  whose  austere  peak  glitters  yet  in  the  sun.  A 
bend  in  the  land  alone  hides  from  me  the  islands  of  Ulysses 
and  Sappho.  When  I  gaze  upon  this  scene,  and  remember 
the  barbaric  splendour  and  turbulent  existence  which  I 
have  just  quitted  with  disgust,  I  recur  to  the  feelings  in  the 
indulgence  of  which  I  can  alone  find  happiness  and  from 


40  LORD   BEACONSFIELO 

Which  an  inexorable   destiny   seems   resolved  to  shut  ine 
out.' 

In  a  sketch  like  the  present  the  tour  cannot  be  followed 
minutely.  Athens  is  finely  painted,  but  Disraeli's  classical 
education  had  been  too  imperfect  to  enable  him  to  fill  with 
figures  and  incidents  the  scenes  which  he  was  looking  upon. 
The  golden  city  was  more  after  his  heart.  '  It  is  near  sun- 
set,'he  wrote  on  November  20,  'and  Constantinople  is  in 
full  sight.  It  baffles  description,  though  so  often  described. 
I  feel  an  excitement  which  I  thought  dead.'  He  did 
describe,  however,  and  drew  magnificent  pictures  of  the 
towns  and  palaces,  and  the  motley-coloured  crowd  which 
thronged  the  bazaars.  Lytton  Bulwer  was  one  of  his  London 
acquaintances.     To  him  he  wrote  from  Constantinople — 

'  I  confess  to  you  that  my  Turkish  prejudices  are  very 
much  confirmed  by  my  residence  in  Turkey.  The  life  of 
this  people  greatly  accords  with  my  taste.  To  repose  on 
voluptuous  divans  and  smoke  superb  pipes,  daily  to  in- 
dulge in  the  luxury  of  a  bath  which  requires  half  a  dozen 
attendants  for  its  perfection,  to  court  the  air  in  a  carved 
caique  by  shores  which  are  a  perpetual  scene,  and  to  find 
no  exertion  greater  than  a  canter  on  a  barb,  this  I  think  a 
more  sensible  life  than  the  bustle  of  clubs,  the  boring  of 
drawing-rooms,  and  the  coarse  vulgarity  of  our  political  con- 
troversies. 

Disraeli's  English  contemporaries  who  were  aspiring  to 
Parliamentary  fame,  and  with  whom  in  a  few  years  he  was  to 
cross  swords,  were  already  learning  the  ways  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  or  training  in  subordinate  official  harness. 
Little  would  any  of  those  who  saw  him  lounging  on  divans, 
with  a  turban  on  his  head  and  smoking  cherry  sticks 
longer  than  himself,  have  dreamt  that  here  was  the  man 


THE   TLAIN   OF   TROY  41 

who  was  to  rise  above  them  all  and  be  Prime  Minister  of 
England.  He  too  was  forming  himself  for  something, 
though  as  yet  he  could  not  tell  for  what.  Ambitious  visions 
haunted  his  imagination,  even  grander  than  he  was  ever  to 
realise.  On  their  way  back  through  the  Dardanelles  the 
party  paused  for  a  sight  of  the  Plain  of  Troy.  As  Disraeli 
stood  on  the  sacred  soil  and  gazed  on  the  grass  mound 
which  was  called  the  tomb  of  Patroclus,  the  thought  passed 
through  him  that  as  the  heroic  age  had  produced  its  Homer, 
the  Augustan  era  its  Virgil,  the  Renaissance  its  Dante,  the 
Reformation  its  Milton,  why  should  not  the  revolutionary 
epoch  produce  its  representative  poet  ?  Why  should  not 
that  poet  be  himself?  Why  not  but  for  two  reasons  ?  that 
the  modern  European  revolution  is  disintegration  and  not 
growth,  the  product  of  man's  feebleness,  not  of  his  great- 
ness, and  therefore  no  subject  for  a  poem ;  and  again  because 
Disraeli  could  never  learn  to  detach  himself  from  his  work 
and  forget  the  fame  with  which  success  was  to  reward  him  ; 
and  therefore  to  be  a  poet  was  not  among  the  gifts  which  the 
Fates  had  in  store  for  him.  It  was  well  for  him,  however,  to 
indulge  the  dream.  No  man  ever  rises  to  greatness  in  this 
world  who  docs  not  aim  at  objects  beyond  his  powers. 

Cyprus  followed,  and  then  Jaffa,  and  from  Jaffa  they 
crossed  the  mountains  to  Jerusalem.  Disraeli  was  not  given 
to  veneration,  but  if  he  venerated  anything  it  was  the  genius 
and  destiny  of  his  own  race.  Even  the  Holy  City  could 
not  transport  him  out  of  himself,  but  it  affected  him  more 
than  anything  which  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  The 
elaborate  but  artificial  account  of  his  impressions,  which  is 
to  be  read  in  '  Tancred,'  is  a  recollection  of  what  he  wrote  to 
his  sister  about  twenty  years  before.  , 

'  From  Jaffa,  a  party  of  six,  well  mounted  and  armed,  we 


42  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

departed  for  Jerusalem,  and  crossed  the  plain  of  Ramie,  vast 
and  fertile.  Ramie — the  ancient  Arimathea — is  the  model 
of  one's  idea  of  a  beautiful  Syrian  village — all  the  houses 
isolated  and  each  surrounded  by  palm  trees  ;  the  meadows 
and  the  exterior  of  the  village  covered  with  olive  trees,  or 
divided  by  rich  plantations  of  Indian  fig.  .  .  .  Next  day,  at 
length,  after  crossing  a  vast  hill,  we  saw  the  Holy  City.  I 
will  describe  it  to  you  from  the  Mount  of  Olives.  This  is  a 
high  hill,  still  partially  covered  with  the  tree  which  gives  it 
its  name.  Jerusalem  is  situated  upon  an  opposite  height 
which  descends  as  a  steep  ravine  and  forms,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  narrow  valley  of  Jehosa- 
phat.  Jerusalem  is  entirely  surrounded  by  an  old  feudal 
wall,  with  towers  and  gates  of  the  time  of  the  crusaders,  and 
in  perfect  preservation.  As  the  town  is  built  upon  a  hill 
you  can  from  the  opposite  height  discern  the  roof  of  almost 
every  house.  In  the  front  is  the  magnificent  mosque  built 
upon  the  site  of  the  Temple.  A  variety  of  domes  and 
towers  rise  in  all  directions.  The  houses  are  of  bright  stone. 
I  was  thunderstruck.  I  saw  before  me  apparently  a  gorgeous 
city.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  wild  and  terrible 
and  barren  than  the  surrounding  scenery,  dark,  strong,  and 
severe  ;  but  the  ground  is  thrown  about  in  such  picturesque 
undulation  that  the  mind  [being]  full  of  the  sublime,  not 
the  beautiful,  rich  and  waving  woods  and  sparkling  cultiva- 
tion would  be  misplaced. 

'Except  Athens  I  never  saw  anything  more  essentially 
striking,  no  city  except  that  whose  sight  was  so  pre-emi- 
nently impressive.  I  will  not  place  it  below  the  city  of 
Minerva.  Athens  and  Jerusalem  in  their  glory  must  have 
been  the  first  representatives  of  the  beautiful  and  the  sub- 
lime.    Jerusalem  in  its  present  state  would  make  a  wonder- 


JERUSALEM  43 

ful  subject  for  Martin,  and  a  picture  from  him  could  alone 
give  you  an  idea  of  it. 

'  This  week  has  been  the  most  delightful  of  all  our  travels. 
We  dined  every  day  on  the  roof  of  a  house  by  moonlight  ; 
visited  the  Holy  Sepulchre  of  course,  though  avoided  the 
other  coglionerie.  The  House  of  Loretto  is  probability  to 
them.  But  the  Easterns  will  believe  anything.  Tombs  of 
the  Kings  very  fine.  Weather  delicious  •  mild  summer  heat. 
Made  an  immense  sensation.  Received  visits  from  the  Vicar- 
General  of  the  Pope,  two  Spanish  priors,  &c.  .  .  .  Mr.  Briggs, 
the  great  Egyptian  merchant,  has  written  from  England  to 
say  that  great  attention  is  to  be  paid  me,  because  I  am  the 
son  of  the  celebrated  author.' 

The  extracts  must  be  cut  short.  The  visit  to  Jerusalem 
was  in  February  1831.  In  April  Disraeli  was  in  Egypt,  and 
ascended  the  Nile  to  Thebes.  '  Conceive  a  feverish  and 
tumultuous  dream  full  of  triumphial  gates,  processions  of 
paintings,  interminable  walls  of  heroic  sculpture,  granite 
colossi  of  gods  and  kings,  prodigious  obelisks,  avenues  of 
sphinxes,  and  halls  of  a  thousand  columns  thirty  feet  in  girth 
and  of  proportionate  height.  My  eyes  and  mind  yet  ache 
with  a  grandeur  so  little  in  unison  with  our  own  littleness. 
The  landscape  was  quite  characteristic  ;  mountains  of 
burning  sand.  Vegetation  unnaturally  vivid,  groves  of 
cocoa  trees,  groups  of  crocodiles,  and  an  ebony  population 
in  a  state  of  nudity  armed  with  spears  of  reeds.' 

Ear  in  the  future  lay  the  Suez  Canal  and  the  influence 
which  the  young  visitor  was  one  day  to  exercise  over  the 
fortunes  of  Egypt.  The  tour  was  over.  His  health  was 
recovered.  He  was  to  return  to  England  and  take  to  work 
again,  uncertain  as  yet  whether  he  was  not  to  go  back  to  his 
Coke  and  Blackstone.     His  thoughts  for  the  present  were 


44  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

turned  on  Bradenham  and  its  inmates.  A  chest  of  Eastern 
armour,  pipes,  and  other  curiosities  was  ready-packed  at 
the  end  of  May,  to  accompany  him  home  for  the  decora- 
tion of  the  hall.  On  May  28  he  wrote  in  high  spirits  of 
his  approaching  return  :  '  I  am  delighted  with  my  father's 
progress.  How  I  long  to  be  with  him,  dearest  of  men, 
flashing  our  quills  together,  standing  together  in  our  chivalry 
as  we  will  do,  now  that  I  have  got  the  use  of  my  brain  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life.' 

These  letters  from  abroad,  and  the  pictures  which 
Disraeli  draws  of  himself  and  of  his  adventures  in  them, 
show  him  as  he  really  was,  making  no  effort  to  produce  an 
effect,  in  the  easy  undress  of  family  confidence,  not  without 
innocent  vanities,  but  light-hearted  and  gay  at  one  moment, 
at  another  deeply  impressionable  with  anything  which  was 
interesting  or  beautiful.  The  affectations  which  so  strongly 
characterised  his  public  appearances  were  but  a  dress 
deliberately  assumed,  to  be  thrown  off  when  he  left  the 
stage  like  a  theatrical  wardrobe. 

The  expedition,  which  had  remained  so  bright  to  the 
end,  unhappily  had  a  tragic  close.  On  the  eve  of  departure 
William  Meredith  caught  the  small-pox  at  Alexandria,  and 
died  after  a  few  days'  illness.  His  marriage  with  Sarah 
Disraeli  was  to  have  taken  place  immediately  after  their 
arrival  in  England.  The  loss  to  her  was  too  deep  for 
reparation  ;  she  remained  single  to  her  own  life's  close.  To 
Disraeli  himself  the  shock  gave  '  inexpressible  sorrow,'  and 
•  cast  a  gloom  over  him  for  many  years.' 


"CONTARINI    FLEMING'  45 


CHAPTER   IV 

'  Contarini  Fleming ' — The  Foetical  Life — Paternal  advice — A  Foct,  or 
not  a  Poet  ? — *  Revolutionary  Epic ' — Favourable  verdict — Success 
of  the  Novels— Disraeli  a  new  Star — London  Society  —  Political 
ambition — Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis — Financial  embarrassments — 
Portraits  of  Disraeli  by  W.  P.  Willis — Lady  Dufferin  and  others 
—  Stands  for  High  Wycombe — Speech  at  the  Red  Lion — Tory 
Radicalism — Friendship  with  Lord  Lyndhurst — Self-confidence — 
Vindication  of  the  British  Constitution — Conservative  Reaction — 
Taunton  Election — Crosses  swords  with  O'Connell — The  Runny- 
mede  Letters  —  Admitted  into  the  Carlton  Club — 'Henrietta 
Temple'  and  '  Venetia.' 

The  law  had  not  been  finally  abandoned — perhaps  in 
deference  to  Isaac  Disraeli's  continued  anxiety  on  the 
subject.  Schemes  and  projects,  however,  which  had  shaped 
themselves  in  Disraeli's  own  mind  during  his  travels  had  to 
be  executed  first.  He  brought  home  with  him  a  brain 
restored  to  energy,  though  with-  saddened  spirits.  There 
was  the  '  Revolutionary  Epic '  to  be  written,  and  an  Eastern 
story  which  was  brought  out  afterwards  as  the  tale  of 
'  Alroy.'  Before  undertaking  either  of  them,  however,  he 
drew  a  second  portrait  of  himself  in  '  Contarini  Fleming.' 
Vivian  Grey  was  a  clever,  independent  youth,  with  the  world 
before  him,  with  no  purpose  save  to  make  himself  con- 
spicuous. Disraeli  now  hoped  to  be  a  poet,  and  in  'Con- 
tarini '  his  aim,  he  said,  was  to  trace  the  development  and 
function  of  the  poetic  character.    The  flippancy  of  '  Vivian  ' 


46  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

is  gone.     The  tone  is  calm,  tender,  and  at  times  morbid. 
The  hero  is  taken  through  a  series  of  adventures.     He  tries 
politics,  but  politics  do  not  interest  him.     He  falls  in  love. 
The  lady  of  his  affections  dies  and  leaves  him  in  despair. 
Contarini  revives  to  find  a  desire,  and  perhaps  a  capacity— 
for  he  cannot  be  confident  that  he  is  not  deceiving  himself 
— to  become  the  poet  which  Disraeli  was  then  aspiring  to 
make  himself.    The  outward  characteristics  of  that  character 
could  at  least  be  assumed.     Contarini  becomes  a  wanderer 
like  Byron,  and  visits  the  same  scenes  from  which  Disraeli 
had  just  returned.     The  book  contains  passages  of  striking 
beauty,  so    striking   that    Goethe   sent   praises   and    com- 
pliments, and  Milman,  who  reviewed  it,  said  it  was  a  work 
in  no  way  inferior   to   'Childe   Harold,'  and  equally  cal- 
culated to  arrest  public  attention.     Yet  the  story  ends  in 
nothing.     The  river  loses  itself  in  the  sands.    Contarini  is 
but  Disraeli   himself  in   the  sick  period  of  undetermined 
energies.     He  meditates  on  the  great  problems  of  life,  and 
arrives  at  the  conclusions   adopted  almost  universally  by 
intellectual    men   before   they   have   learnt   to   strike    out 
their  course  and  to  control  circumstances  and  their  own 
nature. 

'  I  believe  in  that  destiny  before  which  the  ancients 
bowed.  Modern  philosophy  has  infused  into  the  breast  of 
man  a  spirit  of  scepticism,  but  I  think  that  ere  long  science 
will  become  again  imaginative,  and  that  as  we  become  more 
profound  we  may  also  become  more  credulous.  Destiny  is 
our  will,  and  our  will  is  nature.  The  son  who  inherits  the 
organisation  of  the  father  will  be  doomed  to  the  same 
fortunes  as  his  sire,  and  again  the  mysterious  matter  in 
which  his  ancestors  were  moulded  may  in  other  forms,  by 
a  necessary  attraction,  act  upon  his  fate.     All  is  mystery; 


CHOICE   OF  A   PROFESSION  47 

but  he  is  a  slave  who  will  not  struggle  to  penetrate  the 
mystery.' 

Such  passages  as  this  were  not  ominous  of  much  success 
in  the  high  functions  to  which  Contarini  was  aspiring.  Much 
more  interesting,  because  more  natural,  is  a  dialogue  which 
was  probably  an  exact  reproduction  of  a  conversation  between 
Disraeli  and  his  father.  The  father  of  Contarini  entirely 
objects  to  his  son's  proposed  destination  of  himself. 

'  A  poet  ! '  exclaims  the  old  man.  '  What  were  the  great 
poets  in  their  lifetime?  The  most  miserable  of  their  species 
— depressed,  doubtful,  obscure,  or  involved  in  petty  quarrels 
and  petty  persecutions  ;  often  unappreciated,  utterly  un- 
influential,  beggars,  flatterers  of  men,  unworthy  even  of  their 
recognition.  What  a  train  of  disgustful  incidents  !  what  a 
record  of  degrading  circumstances  is  the  life  of  a  great 
poet  !  A  man  of  great  energies  aspires  that  they  should  be 
felt  in  his  lifetime  ;  that  his  existence  should  be  rendered 
more  intensely  vital  by  the  constant  consciousness  of  his 
multiplied  and  multiplying  powers.  Is  posthumous  fame  a 
substitute  for  all  this  ?  Try  the  greatest  by  this  test,  and 
what  is  the  result  ?  Would  you  rather  have  been  Homer 
or  Julius  Cnesar,  Shakespeare  or  Napoleon  ?  No  one  doubts. 
"We  are  active  beings,  and  our  sympathy,  above  all  other 
sympathies,  is  with  great  actions.  Remember  that  all  this 
time  I  am  taking  for  granted  you  may  be  a  Homer.  Let  us 
now  recollect  that  it  is  perhaps  the  most  impossible  incident 
that  can  occur.  The  high  poetic  talent,  as  if  to  prove  that 
the  poet  is  only  at  the  best  a  wild,  although  beautiful,  error 
of  nature,  is  the  rarest  in  creation.  What  you  have  felt  is 
what  I  have  felt  myself.  Mix  in  society  and  I  will  answer 
for  it  that  you  lose  your  poetic  feeling  ;  for  in  you,  as  in  the 
great  majority,  it  is  not  a  matter  of  faculty  originating  in  a 


4§  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

peculiar  organisation,  but  simply  the  consequence  of  nervous 
susceptibility  that  is  common  to  us  all.' 

Contarini  admits  the  truth  of  what  his  father  said,  but 
answers  that  his  ambition  is  great,  as  if  he  must  find  some 
means  to  satisfy  it.  He  did  not  think  he  would  find  life 
tolerable  unless  he  was  in  an  eminent  position,  and  was 
conscious  that  he  deserved  it.  Fame,  and  not  posthumous 
fame,  was  necessary  to  his  felicity.  Such  a  feeling  might 
lead  to  exertion,  and  on  some  roads  might  lead  to  success ; 
but  poetry  is  a  jealous  mistress  and  must  be  pursued  for  her 
own  sake  if  her  favours  are  ever  to  be  won.  Disraeli  would 
not  part  with  his  hope  till  the  experiment  had  been  tried. 
He  destroyed  a  tragedy  which  he  had  already  composed  ; 
but  he  was  better  satisfied  with  his  '  Revolutionary  Epic' 
Three  cantos  were  written,  and  fifty  copies  were  printed. 
These  he  resolved  to  submit  to  the  judgment  of  his  friends. 
If  the  verdict  was  unfavourable  he  would  burn  his  lyre. 

The  recitation  was  at  a  party  at  Mrs.  Austen's,  and  a 
scene  is  thus  described  which  '  was  never  to  be  forgotten ' 
by  those  who  witnessed  it.  '  There  was  something  irresistibly 
comic  in  the  young  man  dressed  in  the  fantastic  cox- 
combical costume  that  he  then  affected— velvet  coat  thrown 
wide  open,  ruffles  on  the  sleeves,  shirt  collars  turned  down 
in  Byronic  fashion,  an  elaborate  embroidered  waistcoat 
from  which  issued  voluminous  folds  of  frill,  shoes  adorned 
with  red  rosettes,  his  black  hair  pomatumed  and  elaborately 
curled,  and  his  person  redolent  with  perfume.  Standing 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  he  explained  the  purpose  of  his 
poem.  It  was  to  be  to  the  revolutionary  age  what  the 
'Iliad,'  the  '^Eneid,'  and  'Paradise  Lost'  had  been  to 
their  respective  epochs.  '  He  had  imagined  the  genius  of 
feudalism  and   the  genius  of  federation   appearing  before 


THE   REVOLUTIONARY   EHC  49 

the  atmightly  throne  and  pleading  their  respective  and 
antagonistic  causes.' x 

With  this  prelude  he  recited  his  first  canto.  It  was  not 
without  passages  sonorous  and  even  grand,  but  the  subject 
itself  was  hopeless.  Disraeli  had  not  yet  discerned  that 
modern  revolution  had  nothing  grand  about  it,  that  it  was 
merely  the  resolution  of  society  into  its  component  atoms, 
that  centuries  would  have  to  pass  before  any  new  arrange- 
ment possessing  worth  or  dignity  would  rise  out  of  the  ruin. 
The  audience  was  favourably  disposed,  but  when  the  poet  left 
the  room  a  gentleman  present  declaimed  an  impromptu  bur- 
lesque of  the  opening  lines,  which  caused  infinite  merriment 
to  those  present.  Disraeli  said  afterwards  of  himself  that  in  his 
life  he  had  tried  many  things,  and  though  he  had  at  first  failed 
he  succeeded  at  last.  This  was  true  ;  but  poetry  was  not 
one  of  these  many  things.  He  was  wise  enough  to  accept 
the  unfavourable  verdict,  and  to  recognise  that,  although  his 
ambition  was  feverish  as  ever,  on  this  road  there  were  no 
triumphs  before  him.  The  dream  that  he  could  become  a 
great  poet  was  broken. 

His  prose  writings  deserved  better  and  fared  better. 
' Contarini  Fleming'  and  the  tale  of  '  Alroy '  were  well 
received.  Milman,  as  was  said  above,  compared  '  Contarini ' 
to  '  Childe  Harold.'  Beckford  found  '  Alroy  '  wildly  original, 
full  of  intense  thought,  awakening,  delightful.  Both  these 
eminent  critics  were  too  lavish  of  their  praise,  but  they 
expressed  the  general  opinion.  The  fame  of  'Vivian  Grey  ' 
was  revived.  The  literary  world  acknowledged  that  a  new 
star  had  appeared,  and  Disraeli  became  a  London  lion. 
The  saloons  of  the  great  were  thrown  open  to  him. 
Bulwer  he  knew  already.  At  Buhver's  house  he  was 
1  Quarterly  Review,  January  18S9,  p.  30. 


50  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

introduced  to  Count  d'Orsay,  Lady  Morgan,  Mrs.  Norton, 
Mrs.  Gore,  and  other  notabilities.  Lady  Blessington 
welcomed  him  at  Kensington.  Flying  higher  he  made 
acquaintance  with  Lord  Mulgrave,  Lord  William  Lennox, 
and  Tom  Moore.  He  frequented  the  fashionable  smoking- 
rooms,  sporting  his  Eastern  acquirements.  A  distinguished 
colonel,  supposing  that  he  meant  to  push  his  good  fortune, 
gave  him  a  friendly  warning.  '  Take  care,'  my  good  fellow. 
I  lost  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  by  smoking  ; 
it  has  prevented  more  liaisons  than  the  dread  of  a  duel  or 
Doctors'  Commons.'  '  You  have  proved  it  a  very  moral 
habit,'  replied  Disraeli.  His  ambition  did  not  run  in  the  line 
which  the  colonel  suspected.  Success  as  a  novelist  might 
gratify  vanity,  but  could  never  meet  Disraeli's  aspirations. 
He  met  public  men,  and  studied  the  ways  of  them,  dimly 
feeling  that  theirs  was  the  sphere  where  he  could  best 
distinguish  himself.  At  a  dinner  at  Lord  Eliot's  he  sat 
next  to  Peel.  '  Peel  most  gracious,'  he  reported  to  his 
sister  next  day.1  '  He  is  a  very  great  man  indeed, 
and  they  all  seem  afraid  of  him.  I  observed  that  he 
attacked  his  turbot  almost  entirely  with  his  knife.  I  could 
conceive  that  he  could  be  very  disagreeable  ;  but  yesterday 
he  was  in  a  most  condescending  humour,  and  unbent  with 
becoming  haughtiness.  I  reminded  him  by  my  dignified 
familiarity  both  that  he  was  an  ex-Minister  and  I  a  present 
Radical.'  He  went  to  the  gallery  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
'heard  Macaulay's  best  speech,  Shiel,  and  Charles  Grant. 
Macaulay  admirable,  but  between  ourselves  I  could  floor 
them  all.  This  entre  nous.  I  was  never  more  confident  of 
anything  than  that  I  could  carry  everything  before  me  in 
that  House.'     In  that  House,  perhaps.     He  knew  that  he 

1  May  24,  1832. 


POLITICAL   AMBITION  51 

had  a  devil  of  a  tongue,  that  he  was  clever,  ready,  without 
fear,  and,  however  vain,  without  the  foolish  form  of  vanity 
which  is  called  modesty.  He  had  studied  politics  all  his 
life,  and  having  no  interests  at  stake  with  either  of  the  great 
parties,  and,  as  being  half  a  foreigner,  lying  outside  them 
both,  he  could  take  a  position  of  his  own.  In  that  House; 
but,  again,  how  was  he  to  get  there  ?  Young  men  of  genius 
may  be  invited  to  dinners  in  the  great  world,  but  seats  in 
Parliament  will  be  only  found  for  them  if  they  will  put  on 
harness  and  be  docile  in  the  shafts.  Disraeli  had  shown  no 
qualities  which  promised  official  usefulness ;  he  called  himself 
a  Radical,  but  he  was  a  Radical  in  his  own  sense  of  the 
word.  He  did  not  talk  democratic  platitudes,  and  insisted 
that  if  he  entered  Parliament  he  would  enter  it  independent 
of  party  ties.  Notoriety  as  a  novelist  even  in  these  more 
advanced  days  is  no  recommendation  to  a  constituency, 
unless  backed  by  money  or  connection,  and  of  these  Disraeli 
had  none. 

One  chance  only  seemed  to  offer.  There  was  a  possi- 
bility of  a  vacancy  at  High  Wycombe,  close  to  his  father's 
house.  There  he  was  personally  known,  and  there,  if  the 
opportunity  were  offered,  he  intended  to  try.  Meantime 
he  extended  his  London  acquaintance,  and  one  friend  he 
acquired  the  importance  of  whom  to  his  future  career  he 
little  dreamt  of.  He  was  introduced  by  Lytton  Bulwer,  '  at 
particular  desire,'  to  Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis,  '  a  pretty 
little  woman,'  he  says,  '  a  flirt  and  a  rattle — indeed,  gifted 
with  a  volubility,  I  should  think,  unequalled.  She  told  me 
she  liked  silent,  melancholy  men.  I  answered  that  I  had 
no  doubt  of  it.' 

The  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis  was  matured, 
and  was  extended  to  her  husband,  a  gentleman  of  large 

E  2 


52  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

fortune  and  member  for  Maidstone.  Meantime  his  chief 
associates  in  London  were  the  set  who  gathered  about 
Lady  Blessington,  young  men  of  fashion  and  questionable 
reputation,  who  were  useful  to  him  perhaps  as  '  studies '  for 
his  novels,  but  otherwise  of  a  value  to  him  less  than  zero. 
Although  he  never  raced,  never  gambled,  or  gave  way  to 
any  kind  of  dissipation,  his  habits  of  life  were  expensive, 
and  his  books,  though  they  sold  well,  brought  him  money 
in  insufficient  quantity.  His  fashionable  impecunious  friends 
who  wanted  loans  induced  him  to  introduce  them  to  men 
in  the  City  who  knew  him,  or  who  knew  his  connections. 
These  persons  were  ready  to  make  advances  if  Disraeli 
would  give  his  own  name  as  an  additional  security.  The 
bills,  when  due,  were  not  paid.  Disraeli  had  to  borrow  for 
himself  to  meet  them,1  and  to  borrow  afterwards  on  his  own 
account.  When  he  was  once  involved  the  second  step  was 
easy,  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  difficulties  which  at  one 
time  brought  him  to  the  edge  of  ruin.  He  was  careless, 
however,  careless  in  such  matters  even  to  the  end  of  his 
life.  His  extraordinary  confidence  in  his  own  powers  never 
allowed  him  to  doubt. 

Several  sketches  of  him  have  been  preserved  as  he 
appeared  in  these  years  in  the  London  world.  N.  P.  Willis, 
the  American,  met  him  at  a  party  at  Lady  Blessington's. 

'  He  was  sitting  in  a  window  looking  on  Hyde  Park,  the 
last  rays  of  sunlight  reflected  from  the  gorgeous  gold 
flowers  of  a  splendidly  embroidered  waistcoat.  Patent 
leather  pumps,  a  white  stick  with  a  black  cord  and  tassel, 
and  a  quantity  of  chains  about  his  neck  and  pockets, 
served  to  make  him  a  conspicuous  object.  He  has  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  faces  I  ever  saw.     He  is  lividly  pale, 

1  This  is  authentic,  though  I  cannot  give  my  authority. — J.  A.  F. 


DISRAELI    IN    SOCIETY  53 

and  but  for  the  energy  of  his  action  and  the  strength  of  his 
lungs   would  seem   to  be  a  victim  of  consumption.     His 
eye  is  black  as  Erebus,  and  has  the  most  mocking,  lying-in 
wait  sort  of  expression  conceivable.     His  mouth  is  alive 
with  a  kind  of  working  and  impatient   nervousness ;  and 
when   he  has   burst  forth,  as  he  does  constantly,  with  a 
particularly  successful  cataract  of  expression,  it  assumes  a 
curl  of  triumphant  scorn  that  would  be  worthy  of  Mephis- 
tophelcs.     His    hair   is   as   extraordinary    as   his   taste    in 
waistcoats.     A  thick,  heavy  mass  of  jet  black  ringlets  falls 
on   his   left   cheek   almost   to   his   collarless   stock,   which 
on   the   right   temple   is    parted    and   put   away   with    the 
smooth  carefulness  of  a  girl.     The  conversation  turned  on 
Beckford.      I  might  as  well  attempt  to  gather  up  the  foam 
of  the  sea  as  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  extraordinary  lan- 
guage in  which  he  clothed  his  description.     He  talked  like 
a  racehorse  approaching  the  winning  post,  every  muscle  in 
action.' 

His  dress  was  purposed  affectation.     It  led  the  listener 
to  look  for  only  folly  from  him,  and  when  a  brilliant  flash 
broke   out  it  was  the  more  startling  as  being  so   utterly 
unlooked  for  from  such  a  figure.     Perhaps  he  overacted  his 
extravagance.     Lady  Dufferin  told  Mr.  Motley  that  when 
she  first  met  him  at  a  dinner  party  he  wore  a  black  velvet 
coat  lined    with   satin,    purple    trousers    with  a  gold  band 
running   down  the  outside  seam,  a  scarlet  waistcoat,  long 
lace   ruffles  falling  down  to  the    tips  of  his  fingers,  white 
gloves  with  several   brilliant  rings  outside  them,  and  long 
black  ringlets  rippling  down  upon  his  shoulders.     She  told 
him  that  he  made  a  fool  of  himself  by  appearing  in  such 
fantastic    shape,    never   guessing    for    what    reason    if   had 

•i  adopt 


54  LORD   BEACON SFI ELD 

Here  is  another  picture  from  Mr.  Madden's  memoirs  of 
Lady  Blessington  : — '  I  frequently  met  Disraeli  at  her 
house.  Though  in  general  society  he  was  usually  silent 
and  reserved,  he  was  closely  observant.  It  required 
generally  a  subject  of  more  than  common  interest  to 
animate  and  stimulate  him  into  the  exercise  of  his  mar- 
vellous powers  of  conversation.  When  duly  excited,  how- 
ever, his  command  of  language  was  truly  wonderful,  his 
powers  of  sarcasm  unsurpassed.  The  readiness  of  his  wit, 
the  quickness  of  his  perception,  the  grasp  of  his  mind,  that 
enabled  him  to  seize  all  the  points  of  any  subject  under 
discussion,  persons  would  only  call  in  question  who  had 
never  been  in  his  company  at  the  period  I  refer  to.' 

Such  was  Disraeli  when,  in  the  summer  of  1832,  he 
offered  himself  as  a  candidate  to  the  electors  of  High 
Wycombe.  The  expected  vacancy  had  occurred.  It  was 
the  last  election  under  the  unreformed  constituency. 
The  voters  were  only  some  forty  or  fifty  in  number. 
One  seat  in  the  borough  had  been  a  family  property 
of  the  Whig  Carringtons  ;  the  other  was  under  the  influence 
of  Sir  Thomas  Baring,  whose  interest  went  with  the 
Government.  Disraeli  started  as  a  Radical.  He  desired 
generally  to  go  into  Parliament  as  a  profession,  as  other 
men  go  to  the  Bar,  to  make  his  way  to  consequence 
and  to  fortune.  But  he  did  not  mean  to  take  any  brief 
which  might  be  offered  him.  He  was  infected  to  some 
extent  by  the  general  Reform  enthusiasm.  Lord  Grey's 
measure  had  taken  half  their  power  from  the  aristo- 
cracy and  the  landed  interest,  and  had  given  it  to  the 
middle  classes.  There  the  Whigs  desired  to  stop  and  to 
put  off  the  hungry  multitude  (who  expected  to  be  better 
clothed  and  fed  and  housed)  with  flash  notes  on  the  Bank 


high  wycombe  55 

of  Liberty.  Ardent  young  men  of  ability  had  small  belief 
in  the  virtues  of  the  middle  classes.  They  were  thinking 
of  a  Reform  which  was  to  make  an  end  of  injustice  and 
misery,  a  remodelling  of  the  world.  Carlyle,  in  the 
Dumfriesshire  Highlands,  caught  the  infection,  and  be- 
lieved for  a  time  in  the  coming  of  a  new  era.  Disraeli 
conceived  that  '  Toryism  was  worn  out,  and  he  could 
not  condescend  to  be  a  "W'hijg.'  He  started  against  the 
Carringtons  on  the  line  of  the  enthusiasts,  advocating  the 
ballot  and  triennial  Parliaments.  For  cant  of  all  kinds 
he  had  the  natural  hatred  which  belongs  to  real  ability. 
The  rights  of  man  to  what  was  called  liberty  he  never 
meddled  with.  He  desired  practical  results.  His  dislike 
of  the  Whigs  recommended  him  to  their  enemies,  and  half 
his  friends  in  the  borough  were  Tories.  The  local  news- 
papers supported  him  as  an  independent.  But  help  was 
welcome  from  any  quarter  but  the  Whigs.  Bulwer,  who 
worked  hard  for  him,  procured  commendatory  letters  from 
O'Connell,  Burdett,  and  Hume,  and  these  letters  were 
placarded  ostentatiously  in  the  Wycombe  market-place. 

The  Government  was  in  alarm  for  Sir  T.  Baring's  seat  ; 
Colonel  Grey,  Lord  Grey's  son,  was  brought  down  as  their 
candidate.  Isaac  Disraeli  seems  to  have  stood  aloof  and  to 
have  left  his  son  to  his  own  resources.  Disraeli  himself  did 
not  mean  to  lose  for  want  of  displaying  himself.  He  drove 
into  Wycombe  in  an  open  carriage  and  four,  dressed  with 
his  usual  extravagance — laced  shirt,  coat  with  pink  lining, 
and  the  morning  cane  which  had  so  impressed  the  Gibraltar 
subalterns.  Colonel  Grey  had  arrived  on  his  first  visit  to 
the  borough,  and  Disraeli  seized  the  opportunity  of  his 
appearance  for  an  impromptu  address.  'All  Wycombe  was 
assembled,'   he   wrote,    describing  the  scene.      'Feeling   it 


56  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

was  the  crisis,  I  jumped  upon  the  portico  of  the  '  Red  Lion  ' 
and  gave  it  them  for  an  hour  and  a  quarter.  I  can  give  you 
no  idea  of  the  effect.  I  made  them  all  mad.  A  great 
many  absolutely  cried.  I  never  made  so  many  friends  in 
my  life,  and  converted  so  many  enemies.  All  the  women 
are  on  my  side,  and  wear  my  colours — pink  and  white.' 
Colonel  Grey  told  Buhver  that  he  never  heard  a  finer  com- 
mand of  words.  Wycombe  was  prouder  than  ever  of  its 
brilliant  neighbour  ;  but  of  course  he  failed.  Hume  had 
shaken  the  Radicals  by  withdrawing  his  support  before  the 
election ;  Government  influence  and  the  Carringtons  did 
the  rest.  Disraeli,  however,  had  made  a  beginning  and 
never  let  himself  be  disheartened. 

This  election  was  in  June.  On  August  16  Parliament 
was  dissolved,  and  he  offered  himself  a  second  time  to  the 
new  constituency.  He  invited  them,  in  his  address,  to 
have  done  with  '  political  jargon,'  to  '  make  an  end  of  the 
factious  slang  of  Whig  and  Tory,  two  names  with  one 
meaning,  and  only  to  delude  the  people,'  and  to  'unite  in 
forming  a  great  national  party.'  '  I  come  before  you,'  he 
said,  '  to  oppose  this  disgusting  system  of  factions  ;  I  come 
forward  wearing  the  badge  of  no  party  and  the  livery  of  no 
faction.  I  seek  your  suffrages  as  an  independent  neighbour. 
...  I  will  withhold  my  support  from  every  Ministry  which  will 
not  originate  some  great  measure  to  ameliorate  the  condition 
of  the  lower  orders.'  This  too  was  not  to  serve  him.  Party 
government  may  be  theoretically  absurd  when  the  rivalry  is 
extended  from  measures  to  men.  When  the  functions  of  an 
Opposition  are  not  merely  to  resist  what  it  disapproves,  but 
to  dethrone  the  other  side,  that  they  may  step  into  its  place, 
we  have  a  civil  war  in  the  midst  of  us,  and  a  civil  war  which 
can  never  end  because  the  strength  of  the  combatants  is, 


HIGH   WYCOMBE  57 

periodically  renewed  at  the  hustings.  Lord  Lyndhurst 
and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  were  by  this  time  interested 
in  Disraeli. 

'The  Duke  and  the  Chancellor  are  besetting  old  Car- 
rington  in  my  favour,'  he  wrote.  'They  say  he  must  yield. 
I  am  not  sanguine,  but  was  recommended  to  issue  the 
address.  The  Duke  wrote  a  strong  letter  to  the  chairman 
of  the  election  committee,  saying  if  Wycombe  was  not 
ensured  something  else  must  be  done  for  Disraeli,  as  a  man 
of  his  acquirements  and  reputation  must  not  be  thrown 
away.  L.  showed  me  the  letter,  but  it  is  impossible  to  say 
how  things  will  go.  It  is  impossible  for  anyone  to  be 
warmer  than  the  Duke  or  Lyndhurst,  and  I  ought  to  say 
the  same  of  Chandos.' 

The  Carrington  family  would  not  yield  ;  Disraeli  was  de- 
feated again,  and  it  became  clear  that  he  must  look  elsewhere 
than  to  Wycombe.  More  than  one  seat  might  have  been 
secured  fur  him  if  he  would  have  committed  himself  to  a 
side,  but  he  still  insisted  that  if  he  entered  Parliament  he 
would  enter  it  unfettered  by  pledges.  There  was  an  ex- 
pected chance  at  Marylebone.  When  he  proposed  himself 
as  a  candidate  he  was  asked  on  what  he  intended  to  stand. 
'On  my  hfjarj,'  he  answered.  Lyndhurst  wished  him  to 
stand  at  Lynn  as  a  friend  of  Lord  Chandos.  Lord 
Durham  offered  to  return  him  as  a  Radical.  '  He  must  be 
a  mighty  independent  personage,'  observed  Charles  Grcville, 
when  he  persisted  in  the  same  reply.  He  realised  by  degrees 
that  he  was  making  himself  impossible,  but  he  would  not 
yield  without  a  further  effort.  There  was  curiosity  about 
him,  which  he  perhaps  overrated,  for  he  published  a  pamphlet 
as  a  self-advertisement,  with  the  title  '  What  is  He?'  of  the 
same  ambitiously  neutral  tint.     His  object  now  was  to  make 


58  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

himself  notorious,  and  the  pamphlet,  he  said,  '  was  as  much 
a  favourite  with  the  Tories  as  with  the  Rads.' 

In  society  he  was  everywhere,  dining  with  Lyndhurst, 
dining  with  O'Connell,  or  at  least  invited  to  dine  with  him,  at 
fetes  and  water  parties,  at  balls  and  suppers.  D'Orsay  painted 
his  picture.  The  world  would  have  spoilt  him  with  vanity 
if  his  self-confidence  had  not  been  already  so  great  that  it 
would  admit  of  no  increase.  His  debts  were  growing.  He 
had  again  borrowed  for  his  election  expenses.  It  was  hinted 
to   him   that   he    might    mend   his   fortune    by   marriage. 

'  Would  you  like  Lady for  a  sister-in-law?' he  says  in  a 

letter  to  Miss  Disraeli.  '  Very  clever,  25,000/.,  and  domestic' 
'  As  for  love,'  he  added,  '  all  my  friends  who  married  for 
love  and  beauty  either  beat  their  wives  or  live  apart  from 
them.  This  is  literally  the  case.  I  may  commit  many 
follies  in  life,  but  I  never  intend  to  marry  for  love,  which 
I  am  sure  is  a  guarantee  for  infelicity.' 

Whatever  might  be  his  faults  he  was  no  paltry  fortune- 
hunter.  He  trusted  to  himself,  and  only  himself.  He  did 
not  sit  down  upon  his  disappointments.  The  press  at  any 
rate  was  open  to  him.  He  wrote  incessantly,  'passing  days 
in  constant  composition.'  In  the  season  he  was  always  in 
London  ;  in  the  winter  either  at  Bradenham  or  at  some 
quiet  place  by  himself,  riding  for  health  and  '  living  solely 
on  snipes.'  Determined  to  be  distinguished,  he  even 
made  a  show,  and  not  a  bad  one,  in  the  hunting  field. 
Writing  from  Southend  in  1834,  he  says,  'Hunted  the 
other  day  with  Sir  H.  Smythe's  hounds,  and  though  not 
in  pink  was  the  best  mounted  man  in  the  field,  riding  an 
Arabian  mare,  which  I  nearly  killed— a  run  of  thirty  miles, 
and  I  stopped  at  nothing.' 

It  was  as  a  politician  that  he  was  desiring  to  keep  himself 


O'CONNELL  AND   THE  WHIGS  59 

before  men's  eyes,  if  not  in  Parliament  yet  as  a  political 
writer  ;  his  pen  was  busy  with  a  'Vindication  of  the  British 
Constitution,'  but  he  meant  also  to  be  known  for  the  manly 
qualities  which  Englishmen  respect. 

Public  events  meantime  hastened  on.  In  England  after 
each  rush  in  the  direction  of  Liberalism  there  is  always  a 
reaction.  Within  two  years  of  the  passing  of  the  Reform 
Bill  Lord  Grey  and  his  friends  had  disgusted  the  Radicals  in 
Parliament.  The  working  men,  finding  that  they  had  been 
fed  with  chaff  instead  of  corn,  had  turned  to  Chartism.  The 
Tories  closed  up  their  broken  ranks.  The  king  dismissed 
the  Ministers,  and  sent  to  Rome  for  Peel  to  take  the  helm. 
The  step  itself  may  have  been  premature  ;  but  Sir  Robert 
was  able  to  take  a  commanding  position  before  the  country, 
and  form  a  party  strong  enough  to  hold  the  Whigs  in  check 
if  too  weak  to  prevent  their  returning  to  office.  Disraeli, 
though  he  never  much  liked  Peel,  had  found  by  this  time 
that  there  was  no  place  in  Parliament  for  a  man  who  had  a 
position  to  make  for  himself,  unless  he  joined  one  party  or 
the  other.  He  swallowed  his  pride,  probably  on  the  advice 
of  Lvndhurst,  with  whom  he  was  now  on  intimate  terms. 
The  rant  of  Radicalism  was  distasteful  to  him.  The  Whigs 
were  odious.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  enlist  under  Peel. 
In  the  spring  of  1835  Lord  Melbourne  came  back  in 
alliance  with  O'Connell,  while  the  world  was  ringing  with 
the  Rathcormack  massacre.  Thirteen  lives  had  been  lost, 
and  'something  was  to  be  done'  for  the  pacification  of 
Ireland.  '  O'Connell  is  so  powerful,'  wrote  Disraeli,  '  that  he 
says  he  will  be  in  the  Cabinet.  How  can  the  Whigs  submit 
to  this?  It  is  the  Irish  Catholic  pari)-  that  has  done  all  this 
mischief.'  O'Connell  was  not  taken  into  the  Cabinet,  but 
under  the  new  arrangement  would  be  more  powerful  than  if 


60  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

restrained  by  office.  Disraeli,  who  had  shown  in  '  Popanilla ' 
what  he  thought  about  the  English  administration  of  that 
unfortunate  island,  had  said  openly  that  large  changes  were 
needed  there,  but  it  was  another  thing  to  truckle  to  anarchy 
and  threats  of  rebellion. 

Mr.  Labouchere,  the  member  for  Taunton,  was  in  the 
new  Ministry.  Custom  required  that  he  should  resign  his 
seat  and  be  re-elected.  Disraeli,  supported  by  the  Carlton 
Club,  went  down  to  oppose  him  in  the  Tory  interest.  He 
was  late  in  the  field.  He  soon  saw  that  for  the  present 
occasion  at  least  he  must  again  fail ;  but  he  found 
supporters  enough  to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  fight  and 
keep  himself  conspicuous.  '  As  to  Taunton  itself,'  he  wrote 
in  the  heat  of  the  conflict,1  'the  enthusiasm  of  Wycombe 
is  a  miniature  to  it,  and  I  believe  in  point  of  energy,  elo- 
quence, and  effect  I  have  far  exceeded  my  former  efforts.' 
He  was  beaten,  though  two-thirds  of  the  electors  promised 
him  their  votes  on  the  next  opportunity.  The  Taunton 
election  went  by,  and  would  have  been  forgotten  like  a 
thousand  others  but  for  an  incident  which  grew  out  of  it. 
Disraeli  desired  notoriety,  and  notoriety  he  was  to  have. 
The  Irish  alliance  was  not  popular  in  England.  Irish 
alliances  never  are  popular  when  the  meaning  of  them  is 
to  purchase  the  support  of  a  disloyal  faction,  to  turn  the 
scale  in  a  struggle  for  power  between  English  parties.  Such 
an  alliance  had  been  last  tried  by  Strafford  and  Charles  I., 
with  unpleasant  consequences  both  to  them  and  to  Ireland. 
Now  the  Whigs  were  trying  the  same  game— the  Whigs,  who 
were  the  heirs  of  the  Long  Parliament.  The  combination  of 
English  Liberals  and  Irish  Papists  was  in  itself  a  monstrous 
anomaly.    Disraeli  had  no  personal  dislike  of  O'Connell,  and 

»  April  27,  1835. 


SPEECH  AT  TAUNTON  6 1 

had  been  grateful  for  his  support  at  Wycombe;  but  he  was 
now  retained  on  the  Tory  side,  and  he  used  the  weapons 
which  were  readiest  to  his  hand.  In  one  of  the  speeches 
which  he  thought  so  successful  he  had  called  O'Connell  an 
incendiary,  and  spoke  of  the  Whigs  as  '  grasping  his  bloody 
hand.'  The  Protestant  Somersetshire  yeomen  no  doubt 
cheered  him  to  his  heart's  content.  The  speech,  being 
exceptionally  smart,  was  reported  at  length  and  fell  under 
O'Connell's  eyes.  O'Connell  was  good-natured,  but  he 
knew  Disraeli  only  as  a  young  politician  whom  he  had 
asked  to  dinner  and  had  endeavoured  to  serve.  Disraeli 
had  gone  out  of  his  way  to  call  him  bad  names,  he  might 
well  have  thought  ungraciously  and  ungratefully.  He  was 
himself  the  unrivalled  master  of  personal  abuse.  He  saw 
an  opening  for  a  bitter  joke,  and  very  naturally  used  it.  At 
a  public  meeting  in  Dublin  he  mentioned  the  part  which  he 
had  taken  at  Wycombe  ;  he  had  been  repaid,  he  said,  by  an 
atrocity  of  the  foulest  description. 

'  The  miscreant  had  the  audacity  to  style  me  an 
incendiary.  I  was  a  greater  incendiary  in  1831  than  I  am 
at  present,  if  ever  I  was  one,  and  he  is  doubly  so  for  having 
employed  me.  He  calls  me  a  traitor;  my  answer  to  this  is, 
he  is  a  liar.  His  life  is  a  living  lie.  He  is  the  most 
degraded  of  his  species  and  kind,  and  England  is  degraded 
in  tolerating  and  having  on  the  face  of  her  society  a 
miscreant  of  his  abominable,  foul,  and  atrocious  nature.  His 
name  shows  that  he  is  by  descent  a  Jew.  They  were  once 
the  chosen  people  of  God.  There  were  miscreants  amongst 
them,  however,  also,  and  it  must  certainly  have  been  from 
one  of  those  that  Disraeli  descended.  He  possesses  just  the 
qualities  of  the  impenitent  thief  that  died  upon  the  cross, 
whose  name  I  verily  believe  must  have  been  Disraeli.     For 


(>2  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

aught  I  know  the  present  Disraeli  is  descended  from  him, 
and  with  the  impression  that  he  is  I  now  forgive  the 
heir  at  law  of  the  blasphemous  thief  that  died  upon  the 
cross.' 

All  the  world  shouted  with  laughter.  The  hit  was  good, 
and  the  provocation,  it  was  generally  felt,  had  been  on 
Disraeli's  side.  But  there  are  limits  to  license  of  tongue 
even  in  political  recrimination,  and  it  was  felt  also  that 
O'Connell  had  transgressed  those  limits.  An  insult  so  keen 
and  bitter  could  be  met  in  one  way  only.  Disraeli  had 
already  been  spattered  by  the  mud  which  flies  so  freely  in 
English  political  contests.  He  had  found  that  '  the  only 
way  to  secure  future  ease  was  to  take  up  a  proper  position 
early  in  life,  and  to  show  that  he  would  not  be  insulted  with 
impunity.'  He  put  himself  into  the  hands  of  Count  d'Orsay. 
D'Orsay  considered  that  a  foreigner  should  not  interfere  in 
a  political  duel,  and  found  Disraeli  another  friend  ;  but  he 
undertook  himself  the  management  of  the  affair.  O'Connell 
having  once  killed  an  antagonist  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind, 
had  '  registered  a  vow  in  heaven '  that  he  would  never  fight 
again.  But  Morgan  O'Connell  had  recently  fought  Lord 
Alvanley  in  his  father's  behalf,  and  was  now  invited  to 
answer  for  the  Dublin  speech.  If  he  was  to  meet  every 
person  who  had  suffered  from  his  father's  tongue  his  life 
would  have  been  a  short  one.  He  replied  that  he  had 
fought  Lord  Alvanley  because  Lord  Alvanley  had  insulted 
his  father;  he  was  not  accountable  for  what  his  father 
might  say  of  other  people.  Disraeli  undertook  to  obviate 
this  difficulty.  He  addressed  O'Connell  in  a  letter 
published  in  the  '  Times,'  which,  if  less  pungent,  at  least 
met  Morgan  O'Connell's  objection.  '  Although,'  he  said, 
'you  have  placed  yourself  out  of  the  pale  of  civilisation  I 


O'CONNELL  AND   DISRAELI  6j 

am  one  who  will  not  be  insulted  even  by  a  yahoo  without 
chastising  it.  ...  I  admire  your  scurrilous  allusion  to  my 
origin ;  it  is  clear  the  hereditary  bondsman  has  already  for- 
gotten the  clank  of  his  fetters.  ...  I  had  nothing  to  appeal 
to  but  the  good  sense  of  the  people.  No  threatening 
skeleton  canvassed  for  me.  A  death's-head  and  cross-bones 
were  not  blazoned  on  my  banners  ;  my  pecuniary  resources 
too  were  limited.  I  am  not  one  of  those  public  beggars 
that  we  see  swarming  with  their  obtrusive  boxes  in  the 
chapels  of  your  creed,  nor  am  I  in  possession  of  a  princely 
revenue  from  a  starving  race  of  fanatical  slaves.' 

He  expected,  he  said  in  conclusion,  to  be  a  representa- 
tive of  the  people  before  the  repeal  of  the  Union.  '  We 
shall  meet  at  Philippi.' 

Disraeli  waited  at  home  till  the  night  of  the  day  on 
which  the  letter  appeared  for  the  effect  of  his  missive.  No 
notice  being  taken  of  it,  '  he  dressed  and  went  to  the  opera.' 
When  Peel  had  challenged  O'Connell  some  years  before,  the 
police  interfered;  on  this  occasion  the  same  thing  had  hap- 
pened. '  As  I  was  lying  in  bed  this  morning,' Disraeli  wrote 
on  May  9  to  his  sister,  '  the  police  officers  from  Marylebone 
rushed  into  my  chamber  and  took  me  into  custody.  I  am 
now  bound  to  keep  the  peace  in  500/.  sureties — a  most 
unnecessary  precaution,  as  if  all  the  O'Connclls  were  to 
challenge  me  I  could  not  think  of  meeting  them  now.  The 
general  effect  is  the  thing,  and  that  is  that  all  men  agree  I 
have  shown  pluck.' 

If  Disraeli  gained  nothing  by  this  encounter  he  at  least 
lost  nothing.  He  was  more  than  ever  talked  about,  and  he 
had  won  approval  from  a  high  authority  at  any  rate.  '  You 
have  no  idea,'  said  Lord  Strangford  to  him,  'of  the  sensa- 
tion produced  at  Strathfieldsaye.     The  Duke  said  at  dinner 


64  LORD  BEACOttSFlELD 

it  was  the  most  manly  thing  done  yet.'    On  one  side  only  his 
outlook  was  unfavourable.     The  Taunton  election  had  been 
a  fresh  expense.     He  had  again  to  borrow,  and  his  creditors 
became  pressing.    Judgments  were  out  against  him  for  more 
debts   than   he   could   meet.     About   this  time — the  date 
cannot  be  fixed  exactly,  but  the  fact  is  certain— a  sheriff's 
officer  appeared  at  Wycombe  on  the  way  to  Bradenham  to 
arrest  him.     Dr.  Rose,1  a  medical  man  in  the  town,  heard 
of  the  arrival,  and  sent  on  an  express  with  a  warning  '  to 
hide  Ben  in  the  well'     Affairs  were  again  smoothed  over 
for   the  moment.     'Ben,'  undaunted  as  ever,  worked  on 
upon  his  own  lines.     He  completed  his  'Vindication  of  the 
British   Constitution  '—vindication   rather    of  Democratic 
Toryism — amidst  the  harassing  of  duns.     It  was  dedicated 
to  Lyndhurst,  and  Lyndhurst  paid  him  a  visit  at  his  father's 
house.     He  had  a  smart  quarrel  with  the  '  Globe  '  over  a 
revival  of  the  O'Connell  business.     In  the  spring  of  1836 
^  appeared  the  Runnymede  letters  in  the  '  Times,'  philippics 
against  the  Whig  leaders  after  the  manner  of  Junius.     He 
was  elected  at  the  Carlton  Club,  to  his  great  satisfaction, 
and  when  the  newspapers  abused  him  he  quoted  a  saying 
of  Swift,  '  that  the  appearance  of  a  man  of  genius  in  the 
world  may  be  always  known  by  the  virulence  of  dunces.' 
To  assist  his  finances  a  proposal  was  made  to  him  '  to  edit 
the  "  Arabian  Nights  "  with  notes  and  an  additional  tale  by 
the  author  of  "Vivian  Grey."'     He  described  it  as  'a  job 
which  would  not  take  up  more  than  a  month  of  his  time ' 
and  by  which  he  might  make  'twelve  or  fifteen  hundred 
pounds.'     Happily  for  his  literary  reputation  this  adventure 
was  not  prosecuted.     Some  one  in  the  City  introduced  him 

1  Father    of    Sir    Philip  Rose,    who    was    afterwards    Disraeli's 
executor. 


NOVELS    AND   Sl'Kl.i  Ills  65 

to  a  speculation  connected  with  a  Dutch  loan,  which  took 
him  twice  to  the  Hague  and  taught  him  the  mysteries  of 
finance.  More  legitimately  in  the  midst  of  embarrassments 
and  platform  speeches  he  wrote  '  Henrietta  Temple '  and 
'  Yenetia,'  the  first  a  pretty  love-story  which  offered  no 
opportunities  for  his  peculiar  gifts,  the  second  an  attempt  to 
exhibit  in  a  novel  the  characters  of  Byron  and  Shelley. 
They  would  have  made  a  reputation  for  an  ordinary  writer. 
They  sustained  the  public  interest  in  Disraeli.  Of  his 
speeches  there  was  one  at  Wycombe  in  which  he  said  that 
there  would  be  no  tranquillity  in  Ireland  '  till  the  Irish 
people  enjoyed  the  right  to  which  the  people  of  all 
countries  were  entitled,  to  be  maintained  by  the  soil  which 
they  cultivated  with  their  labour.'  In  another  there  is  a 
prophetic  passage.  '  I  cannot  force  from  my  mind  the  con- 
viction that  a  House  of  Commons  concentrating  in  itself 
the  whole  powers  of  the  State  might— I  should  say  would — 
constitute  a  despotism  of  the  most  formidable  and  dangerous 
description.'  A  third  was  the  celebrated  Ducrow  speech — 
the  Whig  Premier  as  Ducrow  first  riding  six  horses  at  once, 
and  as  they  foundered  one  by  one  left  at  last  riding  a  jackass, 
which  showed  what  Disraeli  could  do  as  a  mob  orator  when 
he  chose  to  condescend  to  it. 

Bulwer  said  of  one  of  these  speeches  that  it  was  the 
finest  in  the  world,  and  of  one  of  the  novels  that  it  was  the 
very  worst.  The  criticism  was  smartly  worded,  and  on  both 
sides  exaggerated ;  but  it  was  true  that,  if  Disraeli  had  been 
undistinguished  as  a  speaker,  his  early  novels  would  have 
been  as  the  '  flowers  of  the  field,'  charming  for  the  day  that 
was  passing  over  them  and  then  forgotten.  His  political 
apprenticeship  was  at  last  over ;  the  object  of  his  ambition, 
the  so  deeply  coveted  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons,  was 


66  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

within  his  reach,  and  he  was  to  pass  into  his  proper  sphere 
— to  pass  into  it  too  while  still '  young,  for  after  all  that  he 
had  done  and  experienced  he  was  still  only  thirty-three. 
Few  men,  with  the  odds  so  heavy  against  them,  had  risen 
so  high  in  so  short  a  time. 


ELECTED   FOR   MAIDSTONE  67 


CHAPTER   V 

Returned  to  Parliament  for  Maidstone — Takes  his  place  behind  Sir  R. 
Peel  —  Maiden  speech  —  .Silenced  by  violence — Peel's  opinion  of 
it— Advice  of  Shiel  —  Second  speech  on  Copyright  completely 
successful— State  of  politics  —  England  in  a  state  of  change  — 
Break-up  of  ancient  institutions — Land  and  its  duties — Political 
Economy  and  Free  Trade — Struggle  on  the  Corn  Laws. 

The  acquaintance  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis 
had  grown  into  a  close  friendship.  Mr.  Lewis,  as  has  been 
said,  was  member  for  Maidstone,  and  had  large  local  in- 
fluence in  the  borough.  The  death  of  William  IV.,  in  the 
summer  of  1837,  dissolved  Parliament ;  and  Disraeli,  being 
adopted  by  Mr.  Lewis  as  his  colleague,  was  returned  by 
an  easy  majority.  The  election  again  gave  the  Whigs  a 
majority,  but  not  a  large  one.  The  tide  was  fast  ebbing,  _ 
and  the  time  was  near  when  the  Conservatives,  as  the 
Tories  now  called  themselves,  were  to  see  the  balance  turn 
in  their  favour.  Lord  Melbourne  meanwhile  remained 
Minister,  but  a  Minister  who  desired  to  be  able  to  do  nothing. 
Ministers  with  a  powerful  party  behind  them  are  driven  occa- 
sionally into  measures  which  they  would  have  preferred  to 
avoid.  The  electors  who  have  given  them  power  require  them 
to  use  it.  Whigs  and  Tories  alike  know  that  their  time  will 
be  short  unless  by  some  sensational  policy  they  can  gratify 
public  expectation.  Nothing  was  expected  of  Lord  Mel- 
bourne, and  persons  who  dreaded  change  of  any  kind,  from 

F  2 


63  LORD  BEACONSF'IELD 

whichever  side  it  might  come,  were  satisfied  that  it  should  be 
so.  I  remember  Bishop  Philpotts  rubbing  his  hands  over 
the  situation,  and  saying  that  he  hoped  never  more  to  see  a 
strong  Government. 

It  was  a  time  of  '  slack  water  ; '  nevertheless  Disraeli  was 
supremely  happy.  He  had  now  a  career  open  before  him, 
and  a  career  in  which  he  was  certain  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish himself.  His  delight  was  boyish.  He  said,  '  It 
makes  a  difference  in  public  opinion  of  me.'  The  election 
was  in  July,  and  Parliament  met  in  November.  He  took 
his  seat  on  the  second  bench  behind  Peel,  a  place  which 
he  intended,  if  possible,  to  secure  for  himself.  Peel's 
character  had  rallied  the  Conservative  party,  and  to  Peel 
personally  they  looked  for  guidance.  Yarde  Buller  being 
asked  his  opinion  on  some  question,  replied  that  Peel 
had  not  made  up  his  mind ;  Old  Toryism  was  gone  with 
Lord  Eldon  ;  the  Reform  Bill,  once  passed,  was  to  be  the 
law  of  the  land.  Disraeli  had  no  personal  interest  in  any 
of  the  great  questions  which  divided  English  opinion.  He 
owned  no  land  ;  he  was  unconnected  with  trade  ;  he  had 
none  of  the  hereditary  prepossessions  of  a  native  English- 
man. He  was  merely  a  volunteer  on  the  side  with  which, 
as  a  man  of  intellect,  he  had  most  natural  sympathy.  He 
took  a  brief  from  the  Conservatives,  without  remuneration 
in  money,  but  trusting  to  win  fame,  if  not  fortune,  in  an 
occupation  for  which  he  knew  that  he  was  qualified,  f  He 
began  in  the  ranks,  and  Peel  was  his  leader  ;  and  his 
leader,  till  he  had  made  a  place  for  himself,  he  loyally  pre- 
pared to  serve. 

1  Peel  welcomed  me  very  warmly,'  he  reported  to  Bra- 
denham,  '  and  all  noticed  his  cordial  demeanour.  He  looks 
yery  well,  and  asked  me  to  join  a  swell  dinner  at  the  Carlton 


FINANCIAL   EMBARRASSMENTS  69 

on  Thursday — a  House  of  Commons  dinner  purely,'  he 
said.  '  By  that  time  we  shall  know  something  of  the  temper 
of  the  House.'  A  fortnight  later  he  mentioned,  with  evident 
pride,  that  he  had  met  Peel  again,  and  Peel  took  wine  with 
him. 

Success  to  Disraeli  in  the  House  of  Commons  was  the 
alternative  of  a  financial  catastrophe.  His  debts  were  large  ; 
money  had  been  necessary  to  him  for  the  position  to  which 
he  aspired.  He  had  no  securities  to  offer,  and  never  en- 
tangled friends  in  his  pecuniary  dealings.  He  had  gone 
frankly  to  the  professional  money-lenders,  who  had  made 
advances  to  him  in  a  speculation  upon  his  success.  There 
was  no  deception  on  either  side — Disraeli  was  running  his 
talents  against  the  chance  of  failure.  If  he  succeeded  the 
loans  would  be  paid.  If  he  did  not  succeed,  the  usurers 
had  played  for  a  high  stake  and  had  lost  it,  that  was  all. 
At  worst  he  was  but  following  the  example  of  Burke  and 
the  younger  Pitt.  As  his  bills  fell  due,  they  had  been 
renewed  at  8  and  10  per  cent,  and  even  more,  and  when  he 
commenced  his  political  life  would  have  been  formidable 
to  anyone  but  himself.  They  were  all  eventually  paid, 
and  he  was  never  charged,  even  in  thought,  with  having 
abused  afterwards  the  opportunities  of  power  to  relieve  him- 
self. But  it  was  with  this  weight  upon  his  back  that  he  began 
his  Parliamentary  career.  fHe  had  started  on  his  own  merits, 
for  he  had  nothing  else  to  recommend  him,  and  he  had 
challenged  fate  by  the  pretensions  which  he  had  put  forward 
for  himself.  His  birth  was  a  reproach  to  be  got  over.  He 
had  no  great  constituency  at  his  back,  no  popular  cause  to 
represent.  He  was  without  the  academic  reputation  which 
so  often  smooths  the  entrance  to  public  life,  and  the  Tory 
gentlemen,  among  whom  he  had  taken  his  place,  looked  upon 


70  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

him  with  dubious  eyes.  '  Had  I  been  a  political  adventurer, 
he  said  at  Wycombe,  '  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  join  the 
Whigs.'  The  Radicals  would  have  welcomed  him  into 
their  ranks  ;  but  the  Radicals  looked  on  him  as  an  apostate, 
as  a  mischievous  insect  to  be  crushed  on  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. The  '  Globe '  had  assailed  him  brutally,  and  he 
had  replied  in  kind.  '  The  Whig  Samson  should  never 
silence  him  with  the  jaw  of  an  ass.  He  would  show  the 
world  what  a  miserable  poltroon,  what  a  craven  dullard, 
what  a  literary  scarecrow,  what  a  mere  thing  stuffed  with 
straw  and  rubbish  was  the  soi-disant  director  of  public 
opinion  and  official  organ  of  Whig  politics.'  A  first  speech 
in  the  House  of  Commons  is  usually  treated  with  indul- 
gence. The  notoriety  which  Disraeli  had  brought  on  him- 
self by  these  encounters  was  to  make  him  a  solitary 
exception.  He  had  told  O'Connell  that  they  would  meet 
at  Philippi.  Three  weeks  after  Disraeli  had  taken  his 
seat  there  was  a  debate  upon  some  election  manoeuvres  in 
Ireland.  Hard  blows  had  been  exchanged.  Sir  F.  Burdett 
had  called  O'Connell  a  paid  patriot.  O'Connell  had  replied 
that  he  had  sacrificed  a  splendid  professional  income  to 
defend  his  country's  rights.  '  Was  he  for  this  to  be  vilified 
and  traduced  by  an  old  renegade?'  Immediately  after 
O'Connell  Disraeli  rose.  His  appearance  was  theatrical, 
as  usual.  He  was  dressed  in  a  bottle-green  frock  coat, 
with  a  white  waistcoat,  collarless,  and  with  needless  dis- 
play of  gold  chain.  His  face  was  lividly  pale,  his  voice 
and  manner  peculiar.  He  began  naturally  and  sensibly, 
keeping  to  the  point  of  the  debate.  He  was  cheered  by  his 
own  side,  and  might  have  got  through  tolerably  enough  ;  but 
the  gentlemen  below  the  gangway  had  determined  that  his 
Philippi  should  not  end  with  a  victory.     Of  course  he  did 


MAIDEN    SPEECH   IN    HOUSE  OE   COMMONS         J I 

not  yet  know  the  House  of  Commons.  Affected  expressions, 
which  would  have  been  welcomed  at  Wycombe  or  Taunton, 
were  received  with  scornful  laughter.  He  bore  it  for  a  time 
good-humouredly,  and  begged  them  to  hear  him  out.  He 
was  answered  with  fresh  peals  of  mockery.  He  had  to 
speak  of  the  alliance  between  the  Whigs  and  the  Irish 
Catholics.  With  a  flourish  of  rhetoric  he  described  Mel- 
bourne as  flourishing  in  one  hand  the  keys  of  St.  Peter, 
in  the  other,  he  was  going  to  say,  '  the  cap  of  Liberty,'  but 
the  close  of  the  sentence  was  drowned  in  derisive  shouts. 
The  word  had  gone  out  that  he  was  to  be  put  down.  Each 
time  that  he  tried  to  proceed  the  storm  burst  out,  and  the 
Speaker  could  not  silence  it.  Peel  cheered  him  repeatedly. 
The  Tory  party  cheered,  but  to  no  purpose.  At  last,  finding 
it  useless  to  persist,  he  said  he  was  not  surprised  at  the  recep- 
tion which  he  had  experienced.  He  had  begun  several  times 
many  things  and  had  succeeded  at  last.  Then  pausing  and 
looking  indignantly  across  the  House,  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud 
and  remarkable  tone,  which  startled  even  the  noisy  hounds 
who  were  barking  loudest,  'I  will  sit  down  now,  but  the 
time  will  come  when  you  will  hear  me.' 

No  one  suffers  long  through  injustice.  His  ill-wishers 
had  tried  to  embarrass  him  and  make  him  break  down. 
They  had  not  succeeded,  and  probably  even  O'Connell 
himself  felt  that  he  had  been  unfairly  dealt  with.  People 
watched  him  curiously  the  rest  of  the  evening  to  see  how 
he  bore  his  treatment.  He  was  said  to  have  sat  with  his 
arms  folded,  looking  gloomily  on  the  floor.  His  own 
count  shows  that  he  was  not  depressed  at  all,  and  that 
indeed  the  experience  was  not  entirely  new. 

'I  made  my  maiden  speech  last  night,'  he  tells  his  sister, 
1  rising  very  late  after  O'Connell,  but  at  the  request  of  my  party 


72  LORD   BEACOXSFIELD 

and  with  the  full  sanction  of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  I  state  at 
once  that  my  debut  was  a  failure — not  by  my  breaking  down 
or  incompetency  on  my  part,  but  from  the  physical  power 
of  my  adversaries.  It  was  like  my  first  debut  at  Aylesbury, 
and  perhaps  in  that  sense  may  be  auspicious  of  ultimate 
triumph  in  the  same  scene.  I  fought  through  all  with 
undaunted  pluck  and  unruffled  temper,  made  occasionally 
good  isolated  hits  when  there  was  silence,  and  finished  with 
spirit  when  I  found  a  formal  display  was  ineffectual.  My 
party  backed  me  well,  and  no  one  with  more  zeal  and 
kindness  than  Peel,  cheering  me  repeatedly,  which  is  not  his 
custom.  The  uproar  was  all  organised  by  the  Rads  and  the 
Repealers.  In  the  lobby,  at  the  division,  Chandos,  who  was 
not  near  me  in  speaking,  came  up  and  congratulated  me. 
I  replied  I  thought  there  was  no  cause  for  congratulation, 
and  muttered  "  Failure."  "  No  such  thing,"  said  Chandos  ; 
"  you  are  quite  wrong.  I  have  just  seen  Peel,  and  I  said 
to  him,  '  Now  tell  me  exactly  what  you  think  of  Disraeli.' 
Peel  replied,  'Some  of  my  party  were  disappointed  and 
talk  of  failure  ;  I  say  just  the  reverse.  He  did  all  that  he 
could  under  the  circumstances  ;  I  say  anything  but  failure  : 
he  must  make  his  way.'  "  The  Attorney-General  (Campbell), 
to  whom  I  never  spoke  in  my  life,  came  up  to  me  in  the 
lobby  and  spoke  to  me  with  great  cordiality.  He  said,  "Now, 
Mr.  Disraeli,  could  you  just  tell  me  how  you  finished  one 
sentence  in  your  speech  ?  We  are  anxious  to  know.  '  In  one 
hand  the  keys  of  St.  Peter  and  in  the  other—  — ' "  "  In  the 
other  the  cap  of  Liberty,  Sir  John."  He  smiled  and  said,  "  A 
good  picture."  I  replied,  "  But  your  friends  would  not  allow 
me  to  finish  my  picture."  "  I  assure  you,"  he  said,  "  there 
was  the  liveliest  desire  to  hear  you  from  us.  It  was  a  party 
nt  the  bar,  over  whom  we  have  no  control  ;  but  you  have 


CRITICAL   OPINIONS  7$ 

nothing  to  be  afraid  of."     Now  I  have  told  you  all. — Yours, 
D.,  in  very  good  spirits.' 

Disraeli's  collapse  was  the  next  day's  delight  at  the 
clubs.  Shiel,  though  an  Irish  leader,  declined  to  join  in  it. 
'  I  have  heard  what  you  say,'  he  answered  to  the  wits  who 
appealed  to  him,  '  and  what  is  more,  I  heard  this  same 
speech  of  Mr.  Disraeli  ;  and  I  tell  you  this  :  If  ever  the  spirit 
of  oratory  was  in  a  man  it  is  that  man.  Nothing  can  pre- 
vent him  from  being  one  of  the  first  speakers  of  the  House 
of  Commons.' 

The  speech,  however,  might  have  been  a  failure,  Shiel ^ 
admitted,  if  Disraeli  had  been  allowed  to  go  on.  The 
manner  was  unusual  ;  the  House  of  Commons  had  not 
grown  accustomed  to  it.  '  Get  rid  of  your  genius  for  a  session,' 
he  said  to  Disraeli  himself.  '  Speak  often,  for  you  must 
not  show  yourself  cowed,  but  speak  shortly.  Be  very  quiet ; 
try  to  be  dull  ;  only  argue  and  reason  imperfectly.  Astonish 
them  by  speaking  on  subjects  of  detail ;  quote  figures,  dates, 
and  calculations.  In  a  short  time  the  House  will  sigh  for 
the  wit  and  eloquence  they  know  are  in  you.  They  will 
encourage  you  to  pour  them  forth,  and  thus  you  will  have 
the  ear  of  the  House  and  be  a  favourite.' 

Disraeli's  sense  was  stronger  than  his  vanity.  His  whole 
fate  was  at  stake,  and  he  knew  it.  He  took  Shiel's  advice. 
A  week  after  he  had  been  howled  down  he  spoke  again  on 
the  Copyright  Bill,  a  subject  which  he  perfectly  understood. 

Lin  when  he  rose  he  was  observed  with  curious  attention. 
It  was  thought  that  he  would  allude  to  his  first  misad- 
venture ;  he  made  not  the  least  reference  to  it.  His  voice, 
naturally  impressive,  was  in  good  condition.  What  he  said 
was  exactly  to  the  purpose.  His  conclusion,  if  simple,  was 
excellent. 


74  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

'  I  am  glad  to  hear  from  her  Majesty's  Government  that 
the  interests  of  literature  have  at  length  engaged  their  atten- 
tion. It  has  been  the  boast  of  the  Whig  party,  and  a  boast 
not  without  foundation,  that  in  many  brilliant  periods  of  our 
literary  annals  they  have  been  the  patrons  of  letters.  As 
for  myself,  I  trust  that  the  age  of  literary  patronage  has 
passed  ;  and  it  will  be  honourable  to  the  present  Government 
if  under  its  auspices  it  is  succeeded  by  that  of  literary  pro- 
tection.' 

The  House  was  willing  to  be  pleased.  Lord  John 
Russell  cheered  the  allusion  to  his  Liberal  predecessors. 
The  Radicals  approved  of  the  independence  which  he 
claimed  for  the  future  of  his  own  profession.  Peel  loudly 
applauded,  and  never  after  had  Disraeli  to  complain  that  he 
was  not  listened  to  with  respect.  The  cabal  which  would 
have  silenced  him  had,  in  fact,  made  his  reputation.  His 
colleague  and  his  Maidstone  constituents  were  delighted. 
In  the  remainder  of  the  session  he  was  frequently  on  his 
feet,  but  only  to  say  a  few  sensible  sentences  and  never 
putting  himself  forward  on  great  occasions] 

Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  and  continues  to 
be  said  about  the  outset  of  his  Parliamentary  career,  he  had 
made  solid  progress  in  the  estimation  of  the  House  and,  far 
more  to  the  purpose,  his  quick  apprehension  had  learnt  the 
temper  and  disposition  of  the  House  itself. 

'.Before  proceeding  further  a  brief  sketch  must  be  given 
of  the  state  of  public  affairs  when  Disraeli's  political  life 
commenced.  The  British  Islands  were  covered  with  the 
shells  of  institutions  which  no  longer  answered  the  pur- 
pose for  which  they  were  intended.  The  privileges 
remained.  The  duties  attaching  to  them  were  either 
unperformed  or,  from  change  of  circumstances,  incapable  of 


ENGLAND,    PAST   AND  PRESENT  75 

performance.  Down  to  the  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth 
century  the  beliefs  and  habits  of  the  English  nation  were 
formed  by  the  Catholic  Church.  Men  and  women  of  all 
ranks  were  brought  up  on  the  hypothesis  that  their  business 
inthis  world  was  not  to  grow  rich,  but  to  do  their  duties  in 
the  state  of  life  to  which  they  had  been  called.  Their  time 
on  earth  was  short.  In  the  eternity  which  lay  beyond  their 
condition  would  wholly  depend  on  the  way  in  which  it  had 
been  spent.  On  this  principle  society  was  constructed,  and 
the  conduct,  public  and  private,  of  the  great  body  of  the 
people  was  governed  by  the  supposition  that  the  principle 
was  literally  true  J 

History  takes  note  of  the   exception   of  the  foolish   or 
tyrannical  king,  the  oppressive  baron,  the  profligate  Church- 
man, the  occasional  expressions  of  popular  discontent.    Ir- 
regularities in  human  life  are  like  the  river  cataracts  and 
waterfalls  which  attract  the  landscape  painter.    The  historian 
dwells  upon  them  because  they  are  dramatically  interesting, 
but  the  broad  features  of  those  ages  must  be  looked  for  in 
the  commonplace  character  of  everyday  existence,  which 
attracts  little  notice  and  can  be  traced  only  in  the  effects 
which  it  has  produced.     It  was   thus   that   the   soil  of  this 
inland  was  cleared  and  fenced  and  divided  into  fields  as  by 
a  pencil.     It  was  then  that  in  every  parish  there  arose  a 
church,  on  which  piety  lavished  every  ornament  which  skill 
could  command,  and  then  and  thus  was  formed  the  English 
nation,  which  was  to  exercise  so  vast  an  influence  on  the 
fortunes  of  mankind.   (They  were  proud  of  their  liberty.     A 
race  never  lived  more  sternly  resolute  to  keep  the  soil  of 
their  sea-girt  island  untrodden  by  the  foot  of  the  invader. 
Liberty  in  the  modern   sense,  liberty  where  the  rights  of 
man  take  the  place  of  the  duties  of  a  man — such  a  liberty 


76  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

they  neither  sought  nor  desired.  As  in  an  army,  each 
man  had  had  his  own  position  under  a  graduated  scale  of 
authority,  and  the  work  was  hardest  where  the  rank  was 
highest.  The  baron  was  maintained  in  his  castle  on  the 
produce  of  the  estate.  But  the  baron  had  the  hardest 
knocks  in  the  field  of  battle.  In  dangerous  times  he  was 
happy  if  he  escaped  the  scaffold.  He  maintained  his  state 
in  the  outward  splendour  which  belonged  to  his  station,  but 
in  private  he  lived  as  frugally  as  his  tenants,  sleeping  on  a 
hard  bed,  eating  hard,  plain  food,  with  luxury  unheard  of  and 
undreamt  of.  The  rule  was  loyalty — loyalty  of  the  lord  to 
the  king,  loyalty  of  lord  to  peasant  and  of  peasant  to  lord. 
So  deeply  rooted  was  the  mutual  feeling  that  for  long  gene- 
rations after  the  relation  had  lost  its  meaning,  and  one  of  the 
parties  had  forgotten  that  it  ever  had  a  meaning,  reverence 
and  respect  to  the  owner  of  the  land  lingered  on  and  is 
hardly  extinct  to-day. 

In  the  towns  the  trades  were  organised  under  the  guilds. 
The  price  of  food,  the  rate  of  wages  from  household  servant 
to  field  labourer  and  artisan,  were  ordered  by  statute  on 
principles  of  equityy  For  each  trade  there  was  a  council, 
and  false  measure  and  bad  quality  of  goods  were  sharply 
looked  to.  The  miller  could  not  adulterate  his  flour.  The 
price  of  wheat  varied  with  the  harvest,  but  the  speculator 
who  bought  up  grain  to  sell  again  at  famine  price  found 
himself  in  the  hands  of  the  constable.  (For  the  children  of 
the  poor  there  was  an  education  under  the  apprentice  system, 
to  which  the  most  finished  school-board  training  was  as 
copper  to  gold.'  Boys  and  girls  alike  were  all  taught  some 
useful  occupation  by  which  they  could  afterwards  honestly 
maintain  themselves.  If  there  were  hardships  they  were 
not  confined  to  a  single  class,  but  were  borne  equally  by  the 


ENGLAND,    PAST    AND    PRESENT  77 

great  and  the  humble.  A  nation  in  a  healthy  state  is  an 
organism  like  the  human  body.  If  the  finger  says  to  the 
hand,  '  I  have  no  need  of  thee  ;  I  will  go  my  way,  touch  what 
pleases  me,  and  let  alone  what  I  do  not  care  to  meddle  with,' 
the  owner  of  the  hand  will  be  in  a  bad  way.  A  common- 
wealth, or  common  weal,  demands  that  each  kind  shall  do 
the  work  which  belongs  to  him  or  her.  When  he  or  she, 
when  individuals  generally  begin  to  think  and  act  for  them- 
selves, to  seek  their  rights  and  their  enjoyments,  and  forget 
their  duties,  the  work  of  dissolution  has  already  set  in. 

The  fear  of  God  made  England,  and  no  great  nation 
was  ever  made  by  any  other  fear.  When  the  Catholic 
Church  broke  down  it  survived  under  Protestant  forms,  till 
Protestantism  too  dwindled  into  opinion  and  ceased  to  be  a 
rule  of  life.  We  still  read  our  Bibles  and  went  to  church  ; 
we  were  zealous  for  the  purity  of  our  faith,  and  established 
our  societies  to  propagate  it ;  but  the  faith  itself  became 
consistent  with  the  active  sense  that  pleasure  was  pleasant 
and  wealth  was  power,  and  while  our  faith  would  make 
things  right  in  the  next  world  we  might  ourselves  make 
something  out  of  the  present.  JFrom  the  Restoration  down- 
wards the  owners  of  land  began  to  surround  themselves 
with  luxuries,  and  the  employers  of  labour  to  buy  it  at  the 
cheapest  rate.  Selfishness  became  first  a  practice  and  then 
developed  boldly  into  a  theory'.1  Life  was  a  race  in  which 
the  strongest  had  a  right  to  win.  Every  man  was  to  be  set 
free  and  do  the  best  which  he  could  for  himself.  The 
Institutions  remained.  Dukes  and  earls  and  minor  digni- 
taries still  wore  their  coronets  and  owned  the  soil.  Bishops 
were  the  spiritual  lords  of  their  dioceses,  and  the  rector 
n  presented  the  Church  in  his  parish.  The  commercial 
companies    survived     in    outward    magnificence.       But    in 


78  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

aiming  at  wealth  they  all  alike  forfeited  their  power. 
/Competition  became  the  sole  rule  of  trade  ;  a  new  philo- 
sophy was  invented  to  gild  the  change  ;  artisans  and 
labourers  were  taught  to  believe  that  they  would  gain  as 
largely  as  the  capitalists.  They  had  been  bondsmen  ;  they 
were  now  free,  and'all  would  benefit  alike.  Yet  somehow 
all  did  not  benefit  alike?)  The  houses  of  the  upper  classes 
grew  into  palaces,  and  the  owners  of  them  lived  apart  as  a 
separate  caste  ;  but  the  village  labourer  did  not  find  his  lot 
more  easy  because  he  belonged  to  nobody.  As  population 
increased  his  wages  sank  to  the  lowest  point  at  which  he 
could  keep  his  family  alive.  The  '  hands  '  in  the  towns 
fared  no  better.  If  wages  rose  the  cost  of  living  rose  along 
with  them.  The  compulsory  apprentice  system  was  dropped, 
and  the  children  were  dragged  up  in  squalor  upon  the 
streets.  Discontent  broke  out  in  ugly  forms  :  ricks  were 
burnt  in  the  country,  and  in  the  northern  cities  there  was 
riot  and  disorder.  They  were  told  that  they  must  keep  the 
peace  and  help  themselves.  Their  labour  was  an  article 
which  they  had  to  sell,  and  the  value  of  it  was  fixed  by  the 
relations  between  supply  and  demand.  Man  could  not 
alter  the  laws  of  nature,  which  political  economy  had  finally 
discovered.  Political  economy  has  since  been  banished  to 
the  exterior  planets  ;  but  fifty  years  ago  to  doubt  was  heresy, 
to  deny  was  a  crime  to  be  censured  in  all  the  newspapers  -> 
Carlyle  might  talk  scornfully  of  _ihe^JTiiaraeli___science. 
Disraeli  might  heap  ridicule  on  Mr.  Flummery  Flum.  But 
Mr.  Flummery  Flum  was  a  prophet  in  his  day  and  led  the 
believers  into  strange  places.  The  race  for  wealth  went  on 
at  railroad  speed.  (Vast  fortunes  were  accumulated  as  the 
world's  markets  opened  wider.  The  working  classes  ought 
to   have  shared  the  profits,    and  they  were  diligently   in- 


PROTECTION    OR    FREE    TRADE  79 

structed  that  they  had  gained  as  much  as  their  employers. 
But  their  practical  condition  remained  unaltered,  and  they 
looked  with  strange  eyes  upon  the  progress  in  which,  for  one 
cause  or  another,  they  did  not  find  that  they  participated. 
The  remedy  of  the  economists  was  to  heat  the  furnace  still 
hotter,  to  abolish  every  lingering  remnant  of  restraint,  and 
stifle  complaint  by  admitting  the  working  men  to  political 
power.     The  enlightened  among  the  rich  were  not  afraid, 
for  they  were  entrenched,  as  they  believed,  behind  their  law 
of  nature.     In  its  contracts  with  labour  capital  must  always 
have  the  advantage  \   for  capital  could  wait   and   hungry 
stomachs  could  not  wait.     In  the  meantime  let  the  Corn 
Laws   go.     Let   all   taxes   on   articles  of  consumption   go. 
Trade  would  then  expand  indefinitely,  and  all  would  be 
well.     '  The   wealth  of  the   nation,'   the   Free-Traders    of 
Manchester  said,  depends  on  its  commerce.      The  com- 
merce of  England    is   shackled   by   a   network  of  duties. 
The  consumer  pays  dear  for  the  necessaries  of  life,  which 
he  might  buy  cheap  but  for  artificial  interference.     The  raw 
materials  of  our   industry  are   burdened  with   restrictions. 
But  for  these  we  might  multiply  our  mills,  expand  our  con- 
nections, provide  work  and  food  for  the  millions  who  are 
now  hungry.      With  your  Corn  Laws  you  are  starving  mul- 
titudes to   maintain  the  rents  of  a  few  thousand  Elysians, 
who   neither  toil  nor   spin,   who   might   be   blotted  off  the 
surface  of  the  soil  to-morrow  and  none  would  miss  them  ; 
who  consume  the  labours  of  the  poor  on  a  splendour  of 
living  unheard  <>f  since  the  Roman  Empire,  and  extort  the 
means  of  this  extravagance  by  an  arbitrary  law.     You  say 
you  must  have  a  revenue  to  maintain  your  fleets  and  armies, 
and  that  it  cannot  be  raised  except  by  customs  duties.    Your 
fleets  and  armies  are  not  needed.     Take  away  your  com- 


80  LORD   BEACONSFIELI3 

mercial  fetters,  allow  the  nations  of  the  earth  a  free 
exchange  of  commodities  with  us,  and  you  need  not  fear 
that  they  will  quarrel  with  us  :  wars  will  be  heard  of  no 
more,  and  the  complaints  of  the  poor  that  they  are  famished 
to  supply  the  luxuries  of  the  rich  will  no  longer  cry  to  Heaven. 
The  Free-Traders  might  have  been  over-sanguine,  but  on 
the  Corn  Laws  it  was  hard  to  answer  them.  The  duties 
attaching  to  the  ownership  of  land  had  fallen  to  shadows. 
The  defence  of  the  country  had  passed  to  the  army. 
Internal  peace  was  maintained  by  the  police.  Unless  they 
volunteered  to  serve  as  magistrates  the  landlords  had 
but  to  receive  their  rents  and  do  as  they  pleased  with  their 
own.  An  aristocracy  whose  achievements,  as  recorded  in 
newspapers,  were  the  slaughter  of  unheard  of  multitudes  of 
pheasants,  an  aristocracy  to  one  of  whose  distinguished 
members  a  granite  column  was  recently  erected  on  a  spot 
where  he  had  slain  fifty  brace  of  grouse  in  half  an  hour,  were 
scarcely  in  a  position  to  demand  that  the  poor  man's  loaf 
should  be  reduced  in  size,  for  fear  their  incomes  should  suffer 
diminution.  Carlyle  said  that  he  had  never  heard  an  argu- 
ment for  the  Corn  Laws  which  might  not  make  angels  weep. 
If  the  fear  of  suffering  in  their  pockets  had  been  the  only 
motive  which  influenced  the  landed  interest  in  its  opposition 
to  free  trade,  there  would  have  been  nothing  to  be  said  for 
it ;  but  if  that  had  been  all,  Corn  Laws  in  such  a  country 
as  England  could  never  have  existed  at  all.  Protection  for 
native  industry  had  been  established  for  centuries.  It  had 
prevailed  and  still  prevails  in  spite  of  the  arguments  of  free- 
traders all  the  world  over,  and  under  all  forms  of  govern- 
ment. The  principle  of  it  has  been  and  is  that  no  country 
is  in  a  sound  or  safe  condition  which  cannot  feed  its  own 
population  independent  of  the  foreigner.    Peace  could  not  be 


PROTECTION    OR   FREE    TRADE  8 1 

counted  on  with  an  empire  so  extended  as  ours.  Occasions 
of  quarrel  might  arise  which  no  prudence  could  avert.  The 
world  had  seen  many  a  commercial  commonwealth  rise  to 
temporary  splendour,  hut  all  had  gone  the  same  road,  and 
a  country  which  depended  on  its  imports  for  daily  bread 
would  be  living  at  the  mercy  of  its  rivals.  Christianity  had 
failed  to  extinguish  war.  It  was  not  likely  that  commerce 
would  succeed  better,  and  the  accidents  of  a  single  campaign, 
the  successful  blockade  of  our  ports  even  for  a  month  or  a 
fortnight,  might  degrade  us  into  a  shameful  submission. 
British  agriculture  was  the  creation  of  protection.  Under 
the  duties  which  kept  out  foreign  corn  waste  lands  had 
been  reclaimed,  capital  had  been  invested  in  the  soil,  and 
with  such  success  and  energy  that  double  the  wheat  was 
raised  per  acre  in  England  as  was  produced  in  any  country 
in  the  world.  The  farmer  prospered,  the  labourer  at  least 
existed,  and  the  country  population  was  maintained. :  Take 
protection  away  and  wheat  would  cease  to  be  grown.  The 
plough  would  rust  in  the  shed  ;  the  peasantry  of  the  villages 
would  dwindle  away.  They  would  drift  into  the  towns  in 
festering  masses,  living  precariously  from  day  to  day,  ever 
pressing  on  the  means  of  employment  with  decaying 
physique  and  growing  discontent.  Cobden  said  the  cost  of 
carriage  would  partially  protect  the  farmer.  His  own  in- 
dustry must  do  the  rest.  The  ocean  steamers  have  made 
short  work  of  the  cost  of  carriage  ;  the  soil  could  yield  no 
more  than  it  was  bearing  already.  Cobden's  more  daring 
followers  said  that  if  the  country  districts  returned  to  waste 
and  forest  the  nation  itself  would  be  no  poorer.  In  the 
defence  of  protection  and  in  the  denunciation  of  it  there 
was  alike  a  base  element.  The  landlords  were  alarmed  for 
their  private  interests.     The  manufacturer  did  expect  that 


82  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

if  the  loaf  was  cheaper  labour  would  be  cheaper,  for  by 
orthodox  doctrine  labour  adjusted  itself  to  the  cost  of 
living.  But  to  statesmen,  whose  business  it  was  to  look 
beyond  the  day  that  was  passing  over  them,  there  was  rea- 
son to  pause  before  rushing  into  a  course  from  which  there 
could  be  no  return,  and  which  in  another  century  might 
prove  to  have  been  a  wild  experiment.  The  price  of  food 
might  be  gradually  reduced  without  immediate  revolution, 
and  the  opportunity  might  be  used  to  attach  the  colonies 
more  closely  to  the  mother  country.  The  colonies  and  India, 
with  the  encouragement  of  an  advantage  in  the  home  market, 
could  supply  corn  without  limit,  and  their  connection  with 
us  would  be  cemented  by  interest  ;  while  if  they  were  placed 
on  the  same  level  as  foreigners  they  would  perhaps  take 
us  at  our  word  and  become  foreigners.  The  traders  insisted 
that  if  we  opened  our  ports  all  the  world  would  follow  our 
example.  But  prophecies  did  not  always  prove  correct,  and, 
if  the  world  did  not  follow  our  example,  to  fight  prohibitive 
duties  with  free  imports  might  prove  a  losing  bargain. 


CREED,   POLITICAL   AND   RELIGIOUS  S3 


CHAPTER   VI 

Disraeli's  belief,  political  and  religious  —  Sympathy  with  the  people 
— Defends  the  Chartists— The  people,  the  middle  classes,  and  the 
aristocracy— Chartist  riots— Smart  passage  at  arms  in  the  House 
of  Commons— Marriage— Mrs.  Wyndham  Lewis— Disraeli  as  a 
husband. 

Into  this  Maelstrom  Disraeli  was  plunged  when  he  entered 
Parliament.  He  had  his  own  views.  He  knew  the  condi- 
tion of  the  poor  both  in  England  and  Ireland.  He  had  de- 
clared that  no  Government  should  have  his  support  which  did 
not  introduce  some  large  measure  to  improve  that  condition. 
He  had  chosen  the  Conservative  side  because  he  had  no 
belief  in  the  promises  of  the  political  economists,  or  in  the 
blessed  results  to  follow  from  cutting  the  strings  and  leaving 
everyone  to  find  his  level.  He  held  to  the  old  conception 
of  the  commonwealth  that  all  orders  must  work  faithfully 
together  ;  that  trade  was  to  be  extended  not  by  cheapness  and 
tree  markets,  but  by  good  workmanship  and  superior  merit; 
and  that  the  object  which  statesmen  ought  to  set  before 
themselves  was  the  maintenance  of  the  character  of  the 
people,  not  the  piling  up  in  enormous  heaps  of  what 
wealth  had  now  come  to  mean.  The  people  themselves 
were  groping,  in  their  trades  unions,  after  an  organisation 
which  would  revive  in  other  forms  the  functions  of  the 
Guilds;  and  the  exact  science  of  political  economy  would 

G    2 


84  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

cease  to  be  a  science  at  all,  whenever  motives  superior  to 
personal  interest  began  to  be  acted  upon.  Science  was 
knowledge  of  facts  ;  the  facts  most  important  to  be  known 
were  the  facts  of  human  nature  and  human  responsibilities  ; 
and  the  interpretation  of  those  facts  which  had  been  revealed 
to  his  own  race,  Disraeli  actually  believed  to  be  deeper  and 

^  truer  than  any  modern  speculations.  Though  calling  him- 
self a  Christian,  he  was  a  Jew  in  his  heart.  He  regarded 
Christianity  as  only  Judaism  developed,  and,  if  not  com- 
pletely true,  yet  as  immeasurably  nearer  to  truth  than  the 

-  mushroom  philosophies  of  the  present  age.  He  had  studied 
Carlyle,  and  in  some  of  his  writings  had  imitated  him. 
Carlyle  did  not  thank  him  for  this.  "Carlyle  detested  Jews, 
and  looked  on  Disraeli  as  an  adventurer  fishing  for  fortune 
in  Parliamentary  waters.  His  novels  he  despised.  His 
chains  and  velvets  and  affected  airs  he  looked  on  as  the 
tawdry  love  of  vulgar  ornament  characteristic  of  Hounds- 
ditch.  Nevertheless,  Disraeli  had  taken  his  teaching  to 
heart,  and  in  his  own  way  meant  to  act  upon  it.  He 
regarded  the  aristocracy,  like  Carlyle  also,  in  spite  of  the 
double  barrels,  as  the  least  corrupted  part  of  the  community; 
and  to  them,  in  alliance  with  the  people,  he  looked  for 
a  return  of  the  English  nation  to  the  lines  of  true  progress. 
The  Church  was  moving  at  Oxford.  A  wave  of  political 
Conservatism  was  sweeping  over  the  country.  He  thought 
that  in  both  these  movements  he  saw  signs  of  a  genuine 
reaction,  and  Peel,  he  still  believed,  would  give  effect  to 
his  hopes. 

These  were  his  theoretic  convictions,  while  outwardly  he 
amused  himself  in  the  high  circles  which  his  Parliamentary 
notoriety  had  opened  to  him.  His  letters  are  full  of  dukes 
and  princes  and  beautiful  women,  and  balls  and  dinners. 


DISRAELI  AND   PEEL  8$ 

He  ventured  liberties,  even  in  the  presence  of  the  great 
Premier,  and  escaped  unpunished.  In  the  spring  of  1839 
he  notes  a  dinner  in  Whitehall  Gardens.  '  I  came  late,'  he 
says,  'having  mistaken  the  hour.  I  found  some  twenty- 
five  gentlemen  grubbing  in  solemn  silence.  I  threw  a  shot 
over  the  table  and  set  them  going,  and  in  time  they  became 
noisy.  Peel,  I  think,  was  pleased  that  I  broke  the  awful 
stillness,  as  he  talked  to  me  a  good  deal,  though  we  were 
far  removed.'  But  though  he  enjoyed  these  honours  and 
magnificences  perhaps  more  than  he  need  have  done,  he 
kept  an  independence  of  his  own.  It  was  supposed  that  he 
was  looking  for  office,  and  that  Peel's  neglect  of  him  in  1841 
was  the  cause  of  his  subsequent  revolt.  Peel  did  make 
some  advances  to  him  through  a  third  person,  and  said 
afterwards  in  the  House  that  Disraeli  had  been  ready  to 
serve  under  him  ;  but  if  office  was  really  his  object,  never 
did  any  man  take  a  worse  way  of  recommending  himself. 
In  the  summer  of  the  same  year  (1839)  the  monster  Chartist 
petition  was  brought  down  to  the  House  of  Commons  in 
the  name  of  the  working  people  of  England,  and  the  general 
disposition  was  to  treat  it  as  an  absurdity  and  an  insult. 
1  >israeli,  when  his  turn  came  to  speak,  was  not  ashamed  to 
say  that,  though  he  disapproved  of  the  Charter,  he  sympa- 
thised with  the  Chartists.  They  were  right,  he  thought,  in 
desiring  a  fairer  share  in  the  profits  of  their  labour,  and  that 
fairer  share  they  were  unlikely  to  obtain  from  the  commer- 
cial constituences  whom  the  Reform  Bill  had  enfranchised. 
Great  duties  could  alone  confer  great  station,  and  the  new 
class  which  had  been  invested  with  political  station  had 
not  been  bound  up  with  the  mass  of  the  people  by  the 
r<  i  e  of  corresponding  obligations.  Those  who  possessed 
power  without  discharging  its  conditions  and  duties,  were 


86  LORD   DEACONSFIELD 

naturally  anxious  to  put  themselves  to  the  least  possible 
expense  and  trouble.  Having  gained  their  own  object,  they 
wished  to  keep  it  without  appeal  to  their  pockets,  or  cost 
of  their  time.  The  true  friends  of  the  people  ought  to  be 
the  aristocracy,  and  in  very  significant  words  he  added  that 
'  the  English  nation  would  concede  any  degree  of  political 
power  to  a  class  making  simultaneous  advances  in  the 
exercise  of  great  social  duties.' 

The  aristocracy  had  lost  their  power  because  their  duties 
had  been  neglected.  They  might  have  wealth  or  they  might 
have  power  ;  but  not  both  together.  It  was  not  too  late  to 
reconsider  the  alternative.  The  Chartists,  finding  themselves 
scoffed  out  of  the  House  of  Commons,  took  to  violence. 
There  were  riots  in  Birmingham,  and  a  Chartist  convention 
sat  in  London  threatening  revolution.  Lord  John  Russell 
appealed  for  an  increase  of  the  police.  Disraeli  was  one  of 
a  minority  of  five  who  dared  to  say  that  it  was  unnecessary, 
and  that  other  measures  ought  to  be  tried.  When  the 
leaders  were  seized,  he  supported  his  friend,  Tom  Duncombe, 
in  a  protest  against  the  harshness  of  their  treatment.  The 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  rebuked  him.  Fox  Maule, 
a  junior  member  of  the  Government,  charged  him  with 
being  '  an  advocate  of  riot  and  disorder.'  In  later  times 
Disraeli  never  struck  at  small  game.  When  he  meant  fight, 
he  went  for  the  leading  stag  of  the  herd.  On  this  occasion 
he  briefly  touched  his  two  slight  antagonists.  'Under- 
Secretaries,'  he  said,  '  were  sometimes  vulgar  and  ill-bred. 
From  a  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  to  an  Under-Secretary 
of  State  was  a  descent  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous, 
though  the  sublime  was  on  this  occasion  rather  ridiculous, 
and  the  ridiculous  rather  trashy  ! ' 

It   is   scarcely   conceivable   that   if    Disraeli  was   then 


DISRAELI   AND   PEEL  $7 

aspiring  to  harness  under  Sir  Robert,  he  would  have  com- 
mitted himself  with  such  reckless  audacity  ;  and  his  action 
was  the  more  creditable  to  him  as  the  profession  which  he 
had  chosen  brought  him  no  emoluments.  His  financial 
embarrassments  were  thickening  round  him  so  seriously, 
that  without  office  it  might  soon  become  impossible  to 
continue  his  Parliamentary  career.     Like  Bassanio, 

When  he  had  lost  one  shaft, 
He  shot  his  fellow  of  the  self-same  flight 
The  self-same  way  with  more  advised  watch 
To  find  the  other  forth,  and  by  adventuring  both 
He  oft  found  both. 

But  one  shaft  had  disappeared  after  another  till  he  had 
reached  the  last  in  his  quiver.  He  had  not  been  personally 
extravagant.  He  had  moved  in  the  high  circles  to  which 
he  had  been  admitted  rather  as  an  assured  spectator  than 
as  an  imitator  of  their  costly  habits.  But  his  resources 
were  limited  to  the  profits  of  his  writings,  and  to  such  sums 
as  he  could  raise  on  his  own  credit.  His  position  was 
critical  in  the  extreme,  and  Disraeli's  star  might  then  have 
set  like  a  planet  which  becomes  visible  at  twilight  on  the 
western  horizon,  and  shows  out  in  its  splendour  only  to  set 
into  the  sea.  The  temptation  to  sell  oneself  under  such 
circumstances  would  have  been  too  much  for  common 
Parliamentary  virtue.  But  Disraeli  was  a  colt  who  was  not 
to  be  driven  in  a  team  by  a  master.  Lord  Melbourne  had 
asked  him  once  what  he  wished  for.  He  had  answered 
coolly  that  he  wished  to  be  Prime  Minister.  The  insanity 
of  presumption  was  in  fact  the  insanity  of  second  sight  ; 
but  '  vaulting  ambition  '  would  have  '  fallen  on  the  other 
side '  if  a  divinity  had  not  come  to  his  assistance. 

The  heroes  of  his  political  novels  are  usually  made  to  owe 


88  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

their  first  success  to  wealthy  marriages.     Coningsby,  Egre- 
mont,  Endymion,  though  they  deserve  their  good  fortune, 
yet  receive  it  from  a  woman's  hand.    Mr.  Wyndham  Lewis, 
who  had  brought  Disraeli  into  Parliament,  died  unexpectedly 
the  year  after.     His  widow,  the  clever  rattling  flirt,  as  he  had 
described  her  on  first  acquaintance,  after  a  year's  mourn- 
ing, became  Disraeli's  wife.     She  was  childless.     She  was 
left  the  sole  possessor  of  a  house  at  Grosvenor  Gate,  and  a 
life    income   of  several   thousands  a   year.     She   was   not 
beautiful.    Disraeli  was  thirty-five,  and  she  was  approaching 
fifty.     But  she  was  a  heroine  if  ever  woman  deserved  the 
name.     She  devoted  herself  to  Disraeli  with  a  completeness 
which  left  no  room  in  her  mind  for  any  other  thought.     As 
to  him,  he  had  said  that  he  would  never  marry  for  love. 
But  if  love,   in  the  common  sense  of  the  word,   did  not 
exist  between  these  two,  there  was  an  affection  which  stood 
the  trials  of  thirty  years,  and  deepened  only  as  they  both 
declined  into  age.     She  was  his  helpmate,  his  confidante, 
his  adviser ;  from  the  first  he  felt  the  extent  of  his  obliga- 
tions to  her,  but  the  sense  of  obligation,  if  at  first  felt  as 
a  duty,  became  a  bond  of  friendship  perpetually  renewed. 
The  hours  spent  with  his  wife  in  retirement  were  the  happiest 
that  he  knew.     In  defeat  or  victory  he  hurried  home  from 
the  House  of  Commons  to  share  his  vexation  or  his  triumph 
with  his  companion,  who  never  believed  that  he  could  fail. 
The   moment  in  his  whole  life  which  perhaps  gave  him 
greatest  delight  was  that  at  which  he  was  able  to  decorate 
her  with  a  peerage.     To  her  he  dedicated  '  Sybil.' 

'  I,'  he  says,  '  would  inscribe  this  work  to  one  whose 
noble  spirit  and  gentle  nature  ever  prompt  her  to  sympa- 
thise with  the  suffering;  to  one  whose  sweet  voice  has 
often  encouraged,  and  whose  taste  and  judgment  have  ever 


MARRIAGE  89 

guided  its  pages,  the  most  severe  of  critics,  but  a  "  perfect 
wife."  The  experience  of  his  own  married  life  he  describes 
in  '  Coningsby '  as  the  solitary  personal  gift  which  nature  had 
not  bestowed  upon  a  special  favourite  of  fortune.  '  The  lot 
most  precious  to  man,  and  which  a  beneficent  Providence 
has  made  not  the  least  common — to  find  in  another  heart  a 
perfect  and  profound  sympathy,  to  unite  his  existence  with 
one  who  could  share  all  his  joys,  soften  all  his  sorrows,  aid 
him  in  all  his  projects,  respond  to  all  his  fancies,  counsel 
him  in  his  cares  and  support  him  in  his  perils,  make  life 
charming  by  her  charms,  interesting  by  her  intelligence,  and 
sweet  by  the  vigilant  variety  of  her  tenderness — to  find  your 
life  blessed  by  such  an  influence,  and  to  feel  that  your 
influence  can  bless  such  a  life;  the  lot  the  most  divine  of 
divine  gifts,  so  perfect  that  power  and  even  fame  can 
never  rival  its  delights — all  this  nature  had  denied  to 
Sidonia.'     It  had  not  been  denied  to  Disraeli  himself. 

The  carriage  incident  is  well  known.  On  an  anxious 
House  of  Commons  night,  Mrs.  Disraeli  drove  down  with 
her  husband  to  Palace  Yard.  Her  finger  had  been  caught 
and  crushed  in  the  carriage-door.  She  did  not  let  him 
know  what  had  happened,  for  fear  of  disturbing  him,  and 
was  not  released  from  her  torture  till  he  had  left  her.  That 
is  perfectly  authentic,  and  there  are  other  stories  like  it. 
A  husband  capable  of  inspiring  and  maintaining  such 
an  attachment  most  certainly  never  ceased  to  deserve  it. 
Savagely  as  he  was  afterwards  attacked,  his  most  indignant 
enemy  never  ventured  to  touch  his  name  with  scandal.  A 
party  of  young  men  once  ventured  a  foolish  jest  or  two  at 
Mrs.  Disraeli's  age  and  appearance,  and  rallied  him  on  the 
motives  of  his  marriage.  '  Gentlemen,'  said  Disraeli,  as  he 
rose  and  left  the  room,  '  do  none  of  you  know  what  gratitude 


90  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

means  ? '     This  was  the  only  known  instance  in  which  he 
ever  spoke  with  genuine  anger. 

'Gratitude,'  indeed,  if  deeply  felt,  was  as  deeply 
deserved.  His  marriage  made  him  what  he  became. 
Though  never  himself  a  rich  man,  or  endeavouring  to  make 
himself  such,  he  was  thenceforward  superior  to  fortune.  His 
difficulties  were  gradually  disposed  of.  He  had  no  longer 
election  agents'  bills  to  worry  him,  or  debts  to  usurers 
running  up  in  compound  ratio.  More  important  to  him,  he 
was  free  to  take  his  own  line  in  politics,  relieved  from  the 
temptation  of  seeking  office. 


ENGLISH    PROGRESS  9 1 


CHAPTER   VII 

The  enthusiasm  of  progress — Carlyle  and  Disraeli — Protection  and 
Free  Trade — Sir  Robert  Peel  the  Protectionist  Champion — High 
Church  movement  at  Oxford  —  The  Church  as  a  Conservative 
power — Effect  of  the  Reform  Bill — Disraeli's  personal  views  — 
Impossible  to  realise — Election  of  184 1  — Sir  Robert  Peel's  Ministry 
— Drifts  towards  Free  Trade— Peel's  neglect  of  Disraeli — Tariff  of 
1S42 — Young  England — Symptoms  of  revolts — First  skirmish  with 
Peel — Remarkable  speech  on  Ireland. 

The  discovery  of  the  steam-engine  had  revolutionised  the 
relations  of  mankind,  and  during  the  decline  of  the  Mel- 
bourne Ministry  was  revolutionising  the  imagination  of  the 
English  nation.  The  railroads  were  annihilating  distances 
between  town  and  town.  Roads  were  opening  across  the 
ocean,  bringing  the  remotest  sea-coasts  in  the  world  within 
sure  and  easy  reach.  Possibilities  of  an  expansion  of  com- 
merce practically  boundless  inflated  hopes  and  stimulated 
energies.  In  past  generations  England  had  colonised  half 
the  new  world  ;  she  had  become  sovereign  of  the  sea  ;  she 
had  preserved  the  liberties  of  Europe,  and  had  made  her 
name  feared  and  honoured  in  every  part  of  the  globe;  but 
this  was  nothing  compared  to  the  prospect,  which  was  now 
unfolding  itself,  of  becoming  the  world's  great  workshop. 
She  had  invented  steam;  she  had  coal  and  iron  in  a  com- 
bination and  quantity  which  no  other  nation  could  rival ; 
she  had  a  population  ingenious  and  vigorous,  and  capable, 


92  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

if  employment  could  be  found  for  them,  of  indefinite 
multiplication.  The  enthusiasm  of  progress  seized  the 
popular  imagination.  No  word  was  tolerated  which  implied 
a  doubt,  and  the  prophets  of  evil,  like  Carlyle,  were  listened 
to  with  pity  and  amusement.  The  stars  in  their  courses 
were  fighting  for  the  Free  Traders.  The  gold-discoveries 
stimulated  the  circulation  in  the  national  veins,  and  pros- 
perity advanced  with  leaps  and  bounds. 

The  tide  has  slackened  now ;  Other  nations  have 
rejected  our  example,  have  nursed  their  own  industries,  and 
supply  their  own  wants.  The  volume  of  English  trade 
continues  to  roll  on,  but  the  profits  diminish.  The  crowds 
who  throng  our  towns  refuse  to  submit  to  a  lowering  of 
wages,  and  perplex  economists  and  politicians  with  uneasy 
visions:  we  are  thus  better  able  to  consider  with  fairness  the 
objections  of  a  few  far-seeing  statesmen  forty  and  fifty  years 
ago. 

As  far  as  the  thoughts  of  an  ambitious  youth  who  had 
taken  Pistol's  '  The  world's  mine  oyster '  as  the  motto  of  his 
first  book,  and  perhaps  as  the  rule  of  his  life— of  a  gaudy 
coxcomb  who  astonished  drawing-rooms  with  his  satin 
waistcoats,  and  was  the  chosen  friend  of  Count  D'Orsay — as 
far  as  the  thoughts  of  such  a  person  as  this  could  have  any 
affinity  with  those  of  the  stern  ascetic  who,  in  the  midst  of 
accumulating  splendour,  was  denouncing  woe  and  desolation, 
so  far,  at  the  outset  of  his  Parliamentary  life,  the  opinions 
of  Benjamin  Disraeli,  if  we  take  '  Sybil '  for  their  exponent, 
were  the  opinions  of  the  author  of  '  Past  and  Present.' 
Carlyle  thought  of  him  as  a  fantastic  ape.  The  interval 
between  them  was  so  vast  that  the  comparison  provokes 
a  smile.  Disraeli  was  to  fight  against  the  Repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws :  Carlyle  said  that  of  all  strange  demands,  the 


THE   CORN    LAWS   AND   POLITICAL   ECONOMY      93 

strangest  was  that  the  trade  of  owning  land  should  be 
asking  for  higher  wages ;  and  yet  the  Hebrew  conjuror, 
though  at  a  humble  distance,  and  not  without  an  eye  open 
to  his  own  advancement,  was  nearer  to  him  all  along  than 
Carlyle  imagined.  Disraeli  did  not  believe  any  more  than 
he  that  the  greatness  of  a  nation  depended  on  the  abun- 
dance of  its  possessions.  He  did  not  believe  in  a  progress 
which  meant  the  abolition  of  the  traditionary  habits  of  the 
people,  the  destruction  of  village  industries,  and  the  accu- 
mulation of  the  population  into  enormous  cities,  where 
their  character  and  their  physical  qualities  would  be 
changed  and  would  probably  degenerate.  The  only  progress 
which  he  could  acknowledge  was  moral  progress,  and  he 
considered  that  all  legislation  which  proposed  any  other 
object  to  itself  would  produce,  in  the  end,  the  effects  which 
the  prophets  of  his  own  race  had  uniformly  and  truly  fore- 
told. 

Under  the  old  organisation  of  England,  the  different 
orders  of  men  were  bound  together  under  reciprocal 
obligations  of  duty.  The  economists  and  their  political 
followers  held  that  duty  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Food, 
wages,  and  all  else  had  their  market  value,  which  could  be 
interfered  with  only  to  the  general  injury.  The  employer 
was  to  hire  his  labourers  or  his  hands  at  the  lowest  rate  at 
which  they  could  be  induced  to  work.  If  he  ceased  to 
need  them,  or  if  they  would  not  work  on  terms  which  would 
remunerate  him,  he  was  at  liberty  to  turn  them  off.  The 
labourers,  in  return,  might  make  the  best  of  their  own 
opportunity,  and  sell  their  services  to  the  best  advantage 
which  competition  allowed.  The  capitalists  found  the 
arrangement  satisfactory  to  them.  The  people  found  it  less 
satisfactory,  and  they  replied  by  Chartism  and  rick -burnings. 


94  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

The  economists  said  that  the  causes  of  discontent  were  the 
Corn  Laws  and  the  other  taxes  on  food.  Farmers  and  land- 
owners exclaimed  that  if  the  Corn  Laws  were  repealed,  the 
land  must  go  out  of  cultivation.  The  Chartists  were  not 
satisfied  with  the  remedy,  because  they  believed  that,  with 
cheap  food,  wages  would  fall,  and  they  would  be  no  better 
off  than  they  were.  It  was  then  slack  water  in  the  political 
tides.  Public  feeling  was  at  a  stand,  uncertain  which  way  to 
turn.  The  Reform  Bill  of  1832  had  left  to  property  the 
preponderance  of  political  power,  and  everyone  who  had 
anything  to  lose  began  to  be  alarmed  for  himself.  The 
Conservative  reaction  became  more  and  more  evident.  The 
faith  of  the  country  was  in  Sir  Robert  Peel.  He  had  been 
opposed  to  the  Reform  Bill,  but  when  it  was  passed  he  had 
accepted  it  as  the  law  of  the  land,  and  had  reconstituted 
his  party  out  of  the  confidence  of  the  new  constituencies. 
He  had  been  a  declared  Protectionist.  He  had  defended 
the  Corn  Laws,  and  had  spoken  and  voted  for  them.  He 
had  resisted  the  proposal  by  the  Whigs  of  a  fixed  eight- 
shilling  duty,  and  had  accepted  and  gloried  in  the  position 
of  being  the  leader  of  the  gentlemen  of  England.  But  he 
had  refused  to  initiate  any  policy  of  his  own.  He  was 
known  to  be  cautious,  prudent,  and  a  master  of  finance. 
He  was  no  believer  in  novel  theories  or  enthusiastic 
visions,  but  he  had  shown  by  his  conduct  on  the  Catholic 
question  that  he  could  consider  and  allow  for  the  practical 
necessities  of  things.  He  was,  however,  above  all  things 
an  avowed  Conservative,  and  as  a  Conservative  the  country 
looked  to  him  to  steer  the  ship  through  the  cataracts. 

Another  phenomenon  had  started  up  carrying  a  Con- 
servative colour.  Puseyism  had  appeared  at  Oxford,  and 
was    rapidly   spreading.      The   Church    of   England,   long 


CHURCH    REVIVAL  95 

paralysed  by  Erastianism  and  worldlincss,  was  awaking  out 
of  its  sleep,  and  claiming  to  speak  again  as  the  Divinely- 
appointed  ruler  of  English  souls.  Political  economy  had 
undertaken  to  manage  things  on  the  hypothesis  that  men 
had  no  souls,  or  that  their  souls,  if  they  possessed  such 
entities,  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  commercial  relations  to 
one  another.  The  Church  of  England,  as  long  as  it  remained 
silent  or  sleeping,  had  seemed  to  acquiesce  in  the  new 
revelation,  but  it  was  beginning  to  claim  a  voice  again  in  the 
practical  affairs  of  the  world,  and  the  response,  loud  and 
strong,  indicated  that  there  still  remained  among  us  a  power 
of  latent  conviction  which  might  revive  the  force  of  noble 
and  disinterested  motive.  A  Church  of  England  renovated 
and  alive  again  might,  some  thought,  become  an  influence 
of  incalculable  consequence.  Carlyle's  keen,  clear  eyes 
refused  to  be  deceived.  '  Galvanic  Puseyism,'  he  called  it, 
and  '  dancings  of  the  sheeted  dead.'  A  politician  like 
Disraeli  looking  out  into  the  phenomena  in  which  he  was 
to  play  his  part,  and  thinking  more  of  what  was  going  on 
among  the  people  than  of  the  immediate  condition  of 
Parliamentary  parties,  conceived  that  he  saw  in  the  new 
movement,  not  only  an  effort  of  Conservative  energy,  but 
an  indication  of  a  genuine  recoil  from  moral  and  spiritual 
anarchy  towards  the  Hebrew  principle  in  which  he  really 
believed.  Two  forces  he  saw  still  surviving  in  England 
which  had  been  overlooked,  or  supposed  to  be  dead — respect 
for  the  Church,  and  the  voluntary  loyalty  (which,  though 
waning,  might  equally  be  recovered)  of  the  people  towards 
the  aristocracy.  Perhaps  he  overrated  both  because  he  had 
been  himself  born  and  bred  outside  their  influence,  and 
thus  looked  at  them  without  the  insight  which  he  gained 
afterwards  on  more  intimate  acquaintance.  To  some  extent, 


96  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

however,  they  were  realities,  and  were  legitimate  subjects 
of  calculation.  Extracts  from  his  writings  will  show 
how  his  mind  was  working.  He  had  been  studying  the 
action  of  the  Reform  Bill  of  1832.  No  one  pretended, 
he  said,  that  it  had  improved  the  character  of  Parliament 
itself. 

'  But  had  it  exercised  a  beneficial  influence  in  the 
country  ?  Had  it  elevated  the  tone  of  the  public  mind  ? 
Had  it  cultivated  the  popular  sensibilities  to  noble  and 
ennobling  ends  ?  Had  it  proposed  to  the  people  of 
England  a  higher  test  of  national  respect  and  confidence  ? 
...  If  a  spirit  of  rapacious  covetousness,  desecrating  all 
the  humanities  of  life,  has  been  the  besetting  sin  of  England 
for  the  last  century  and  a  half,  since  the  passing  of  the 
Reform  Act  the  altar  of  Mammon  has  blazed  with  a  triple 
worship.  To  acquire,  to  accumulate,  to  plunder  each  other 
by  virtue  of  philosophic  phrases — to  propose  a  Utopia  to 
consist  only  of  Wealth  and  Toil — this  has  been  the  business 
of  enfranchised  England  for  the  last  twelve  years,  until  we 
are  startled  from  our  voracious  strife  by  the  wail  of  intolerable 
serfage.'  ' 

Again :  '  Born  in  a  library,  and  trained  from  early  child- 
hood by  learned  men  who  did  not  share  the  passions  and 
the  prejudices  of  our  political  and  social  life,  I  had  imbibed 
on  some  subjects  conclusions  different  from  those  which 
generally  prevail,  and  especially  with  reference  to  the  history 
of  our  own  country.  How  an  oligarchy  had  been  substi- 
tuted for  a  kingdom,  and  a  narrow-minded  and  bigoted 
fanaticism  flourished,  in  the  name  of  religious  liberty,  were 
problems  long  to  me  insoluble,  but  which  early  interested 
me.     But  what  most  attracted  my  musing,  even  as  a  boy, 

■  Sybil 


EFFECTS   OF   THE   REFORM   BILL  97 

were  the  elements  of  our  political  parties,  and  the  strange 
mystification  by  which  that  which  was  national  in  our  Con- 
stitution had  become  odious,  and  that  which  was  exclusive 
was  presented  as  popular.  ^ 

'  What  has  mainly  led  to  this  confusion  is  our  carelessness 
in  not  distinguishing  between  the  excellence  of  a  principle 
and  its  injurious  or  obsolete  application.  The  feudal 
system  may  have  worn  out ;  but  its  main  principle — that 
the  tenure  of  property  should  be  the  fulfilment  of  duty — is 
the  essence  of  good  government.  The  divine  right  of  kings 
may  have  been  a  plea  for  feeble  tyrants;  but  the  divine 
right  of  government  is  the  key  of  human  progress,  and 
without  it  governments  sink  into  a  police,  and  a  nation  is 
degraded  into  a  mob.  .  .  .  National  institutions  were  the 
ramparts  of  a  multitude  against  large  estates,  exercising 
political  power,  derived  from  a  limited  class.  The  Church 
was  in  theory,  and  once  it  had  been  in  practice,  the 
spiritual  and  intellectual  trainer  of  the  people.  The  privi- 
leges of  the  multitude  and  the  prerogative  of  the  sovereign 
had  grown  up  together,  and  together  they  had  waned. 
Under  the  plea  of  Liberalism,  all  the  institutions  which  were 
the  bulwark  of  the  multitude  had  been  sapped  and  weakened, 
and  nothing  had  been  substituted  for  them.  The  people 
were  without  education,  and  relatively  to  the  advance  of 
science  and  the  comfort  of  the  superior  classes,  their  con- 
dition had  deteriorated  and  their  physical  quality  as  a  race 
was  threatened. 

'  To  change  back  the  oligarchy  into  a  generous  aristocracy 
round  a  real  throne ;  to  infuse  life  and  vigour  into  the  Church 
as  the  trainer  of  the  nation  by  the  revival  of  Convocation, 
then  dumb,  on  a  wise  basis ;  to  establish  a  commercial  code 
on  the  principles  successfully  negotiated  by  Lord  Bolingbroke 

H 


08  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


v 


at  Utrecht,  and  which,  though  baffled  at  the  time  by  a  Whig 
Parliament,  were  subsequently  and  triumphantly  vindicated 
by  his  pupil  and  political  heir,  Mr.  Pitt ;  to  govern  Ireland 
according  to  the  policy  of  Charles  I.,  and  not  of  Oliver 
Cromwell;  to  emancipate  the  political  constituency  of  1832 
from  its  sectarian  bondage  and  contracted  sympathies ;  to 
elevate  the  physical  as  well  as  the  moral  condition  of  the 
people  by  establishing  that  labour  required  regulation  as 
much  as  property — and  all  this  rather  by  the  use  of  ancient 
forms  and  the  restoration  of  the  past,  than  by  political 
revolutions  founded  on  abstract  ideas — appeared  to  be  the 
course  which  the  circumstances  of  the  country  required, 
and  which,  practically  speaking,  could  only,  with  all  their 
faults  and  backslidings,  be  undertaken  and  accomplished  by 
a  reconstructed  Tory  party. 

'  When  I  attempted  to  enter  public  life,  I  expressed  these 
views,  long  meditated,  to  my  countrymen.  ...  I  incurred 
the  accustomed  penalty  of  being  looked  on  as  a  visionary. 
.  .  .  Ten  years  afterwards,  affairs  had  changed.  I  had  been 
some  time  in  Parliament,  and  had  friends  who  had  entered 
public  life  with  myself,  who  listened  always  with  interest, 
and  sometimes  with  sympathy.  .  .  .  The  writer,  and  those 
who  acted  with  him,  looked  then  upon  the  Anglican  Church 
as  a  main  machinery  by  which  these  results  might  be  realised. 
There  were  few  great  things  left  in  England,  and  the  Church 
was  one.  Nor  do  I  doubt  that  if  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago  there  had  arisen  a  Churchman  equal  to  the  occasion, 
the  position  of  ecclesiastical  affairs  in  this  country  would 
have  been  very  different  from  that  which  they  now  occupy. 
But  these  great  matters  fell  into  the  hands  of  monks  and 
schoolmen.  The  secession  of  Dr.  Newman  dealt  a  blow  to 
the  Church  under  which  it  still  reels.     That  extraordinary 


DISAITOINTED    HOPES  99 

event  has  been  "  apologised "  for,  but  it  has  never  been 
explained.  The  tradition  of  the  Anglican  Church  was 
powerful.  Resting  on  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  modified 
by  the  Divine  school  of  Galilee,  it  would  have  found  that 
rock  of  truth  which  Providence,  by  the  instrumentality  of 
the  Semitic  race,  had  promised  to  St.  Peter.  Instead  of 
that,  the  seceders  sought  refuge  in  mediaeval  superstitions 
which  are  generally  only  the  embodiments  of  Pagan  cere- 
monies and  creeds.' l 

Writing  after  the  experience  of  thirty  years  of  Parlia- 
mentary life,  Disraeli  thus  described  the  impressions  and 
the  hopes  with  which  he  commenced  his  public  career. 
He  was  disappointed  by  causes  which  he  partly  indicates, 
and  by  the  nature  of  things  which  he  then  imperfectly 
realised.  But,  carefully  considered,  they  explain  the  whole 
of  his  action  down  to  the  time  when  he  found  his  ex- 
pectation incapable  of  realisation.  His  Church  views 
were  somewhat  hazy,  though  he  was  right  enough  about 
the  Pagan  ceremonies. 

After  their  marriage,  the  Disraelis  spent  two  months  on 
the  Continent.  They  went  to  Baden,  Munich,  Frankfort, 
Ratisbon,  Nuremburg,  seeing  galleries  and  other  curiosities. 
In  November  they  returned  to  England,  to  the  house  in 
Grosvenor  Gate  which  was  thenceforward  their  London 
home,  and  Disraeli  took  his  place  on  an  equal  footing 
as  an  established  member  of  the  great  world.  He  was  in- 
troduced to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  had  hitherto 
known  him  only  by  reputation.  He  received  Peel's  congratu- 
lations on  his  marriage  with  admitted  pride  and  pleasure, 
and  began  to  give  dinners  on  his  own  account  to  leading 
members  of  his  party.     The  impecunious  adventurer  had 

1  Preface  to  Lothair. 

II  2 


IOO  LORD    BEACONSFIELD 

acquired    the    social    standing   without   which    the    most 
brilliant  gifts  are  regarded  with  a  certain  suspicion. 

At  the  general  election  in  1841,  Sir  Robert  Peel  was 
borne  into  power,  with  a  majority  returned  on  Protec- 
tionist principles,  larger  than  the  most  sanguine  enthusiast 
had  dared  to  hope  for,  Disraeli  himself  being  returned  for 
Shrewsbury — his  connection  with  Maidstone  having  been 
probably  broken  by  his  late  colleague's  death.  When  the 
new  Parliament  settled  to  work,  Peel  took  the  reins,  and 
settled  the  finances  by  an  income-tax — then  called  a  tem- 
porary expedient,  but  in  fact  a  necessary  condition  of  the 
policy  which  at  once  he  proceeded  to  follow.  Duties  were 
reduced  in  all  directions,  but  there  was  no  word  of  com- 
mercial treaties.  Free  Trade  principles  were  visibly  to  be 
adopted,  so  far  as  the  state  of  parties  would  allow,  and  the 
indications  grew  daily  stronger  that  no  such  policy  as 
Disraeli  desired  had  come  near  the  Premier's  mind.  The 
middle  classes  had  confidence  in  Peel.  It  seemed  that 
Peel  had  confidence  in  them,  and  Disraeli  had  none  at  all. 
Still,  Peel  was  his  political  chief,  and  Disraeli  continued  to 
serve  him,  and  to  serve  effectively  and  zealously.  More 
and  more  he  displayed  his  peculiar  powers.  When  he 
chose  he  was  the  hardest  hitter  in  the  House  of  Commons ; 
and  as  he  never  struck  in  malice,  and  selected  always  an 
antlered  stag  for  an  adversary,  the  House  was  amused  at 
his  audacity.  Palmerston  on  some  occasion  regretted  that 
the  honourable  member  had  been  made  an  exception  to 
the  rule  that  political  adherents  ought  to  be  rewarded  by 
appointments.  He  trusted  that  before  the  end  of  the 
Session  the  Government  would  overlook  the  slight  want  of 
industry  for  the  sake  of  the  talent.  Disraeli  '  thanked  the 
noble  viscount  for  his  courteous  aspirations  for  his  political 


POWERS    IN    THE    HOUSE   OF   COMMONS        IOI 

promotion.  The  noble  viscount  was  a  master  of  the 
subject.  If  the  noble  viscount  would  only  impart  to  him 
the  secret  by  which  he  had  himself  contrived  to  retain 
office  during  so  many  successive  administrations,  the  present 
debate  would  not  be  without  a  result.'  Such  a  passage  at 
arms  may  have  been  the  more  entertaining  because  Disraeli 
was  supposed  to  have  resented  the  neglect  of  his  claims 
when  Peel  was  forming  his  Administration.  It  is  probable 
that  Peel  had  studied  the  superficial  aspects  of  his  character, 
had  underrated  his  ability,  had  discerned  that  he  might  not 
be  sufficiently  docile,  or  had  suspected  and  resented  his 
advocacy  of  the  Chartists.  Disraeli  may  have  thought  that 
the  offer  ought  to  have  been  made  to  him,  but  it  is  evident 
that  on  other  grounds  the  differences  between  them  would 
tend  to  widen.  The  Tariff  of  1842  was  the  first  note  of 
alarm  to  the  Conservative  party — Disraeli  defended  it,  but 
not  with  an  entire  heart.  '  Peel,'  he  said  in  a  letter  to  his 
sister,1  'seems  to  have  pleased  no  party,  but  I  suppose  the 
necessity  of  things  will  force  his  measure  through  :  affairs 
may  yet  simmer  up  into  foam  and  bubble,  and  there  may 
be  a  row.'  The  Conservatives  had  been  trusted  by  the 
country  with  an  opportunity  of  trying  their  principles  which, 
if  allowed  to  pass,  might  never  be  renewed.  Their  leader 
was  not  yet  openly  betraying  them,  but  everyone  but  him- 
self began  to  perceive  that  the  Conservatism  of  the  Govern- 
ment was  only  to  be  Liberalism  in  disguise. 

Disraeli  individually  had  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that 
he  was  becoming  a  person  of  consequence.  He  ran  across 
to  Paris,  and  dined  privately  with  Louis  Philippe.  In 
London  he  was  presented  to  the  King  of  Hanover,  '  the 
second  king  who  has  shaken  hands  with  me  in  six  months.' 

1  February  2,  1842. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SANTA  BARBARA  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 


102  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Public  affairs  he  found  '  uncertain  and  unsatisfactory,'  Peel 
'  frigid  and  feeble,'  and  '  general  grumbling.'  He  continued 
to  speak,  and  speak  often  and  successfully ;  but  the  mutual 
distrust  between  him  and  his  chief  was  growing. 

Peel  among  his  magnificent  qualities  had  not  the  art  of 
conciliating  the  rank-and-file  of  his  supporters.  He  regarded 
them  too  much  as  his  own  creatures,  entitled  to  no  con- 
sideration. Disraeli,  taking  the  whole  field  of  politics  for 
his  province,  met  with  rebuke  after  rebuke.  He  had  seen 
by  this  time  that  for  his  own  theories  there  was  no  hope 
of  countenance  from  the  present  chief.  He  had  formed  a 
small  party  among  the  younger  Tory  members — men  of  rank 
and  talent,  with  a  high-bred  enthusiasm  which  had  been 
kindled  by  the  Church  revival.  A  party  including  Lord 
John  Manners,  George  Smyth,  Henry  Hope,  and  Baillie 
Cochrane  was  not  to  be  despised  ;  and  thus  reinforced  and 
encouraged,  he  ventured  to  take  a  line  of  his  own. 

Among  the  articles  of  faith  was  the  belief  that  Ireland 
ought  to  be  treated  on  the  principles  of  Charles  I.,  and  not 
on  the  principles  of  Cromwell.  O'Connell  in  1843  was 
setting  Ireland  in  a  flame  again,  and  Peel,  better  acquainted 
with  Ireland  than  Disraeli,  and  hopeless  of  other  remedy, 
had  introduced  one  of  the  periodic  Coercion  Bills.  The 
Young  Englanders,  as  he  and  his  friends  were  now  called, 
had  Catholic  sympathies,  and  they  imagined  that  religion  was 
at  the  bottom  of  these  perpetual  disturbances.  Coercion 
answered  only  for  the  moment.  A  more  conciliatory  atti- 
tude towards  the  ancient  creed  might  touch  the  secret  of 
the  disease.  Disraeli  perhaps  wished  to  show  that  he  bore 
no  malice  against  O'Connell  or  against  his  tail.  He  thought 
that  he  could  persuade  the  Irish  that  they  had  more  to  hope 
for  from  Cavalier  Tories  than  from  Roundhead  Whigs.     Of 


PERSONAL    INDEPENDENCE  103 

Irish  history  he  knew  as  little  as  the  rest  of  the  House  of 
Commons.      He   had   heard,   perhaps,  of  the   Glamorgan 
Articles   and  Charles  I.'s   negotiations  with   the  Kilkenny 
Parliament.     Peel,  when  in  opposition,  had   talked  about 
conciliation.     In  office  he  had  nothing  to  propose  but  force. 
Disraeli,  when  the  Bill  came  before  the  House,  gave  the  first 
sign  of  revolt ;  he  said  that  it  was  one  of  those  measures 
which  to  introduce  was  degrading,  and  to  oppose  disgraceful. 
He  would  neither  vote  for  it  nor  against  it ;  but  as  Peel  had 
departed  from  the  policy  which  he  had  led  his  party  to  hope 
that  he  meant  to  pursue  before  he  came  into  power,  he 
(Disraeli),  speaking  for  himself  and   his   friends,  declared 
that  they  were  now  free  from  the  bonds  of  party  on  this 
subject  of  Ireland,  for  the  right  hon.    gentleman   himself 
had  broken  them.     They  had  now  a  right  to  fall  back  on 
their  own  opinions. 

Something  still  more  significant  was  to  follow.     A  few 
days  later  (August  1843)  tne  Eastern  question   came  up. 
Disraeli,  whose  friendship  for  the  Turks  was  of  old  standing, 
asked  a  question  relating  to  Russian  interference  in  Servia. 
Peel  gave  an  abrupt  answer  to  end  the  matter.    Palmerston, 
however,  taking  it  up,  Disraeli  had  a  further  opportunity  of 
speaking.     He  complained  that  Turkey  had  been  stabbed 
in  the  back  by  the  diplomacy  of  Europe  ;  that  the  integrity 
and  independence  of  the  Turkish  dominions  were  of  vital 
consequence,  &c.     But  the  point  of  his  speech  was  in  the 
sting  with  which  it  concluded.     Winding  up  in  the  slow, 
deliberate  manner  which  he  made  afterwards  so  peculiarly 
effective,  he  reminded  the  House  of  his  own  previous  ques- 
tion, '  couched,  he  believed,  in  Parliamentary  language,  and 
made  with  all  that  respect  which  he  felt  for  the  right  hon. 
gentleman.      '  To  this  inquiry,'   he   said,    '  the   right   hon. 


104  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

gentleman  replied  with  all  that  explicitness  of  which  he 
was  a  master,  and  all  that  courtesy  which  he  reserved  only 
for  his  supporters.' 

The  House  of  Commons  had  much  of  the  generous 
temper  of  an  English  public  school.  Boys  like  a  little 
fellow  who  has  the  courage  to  stand  up  to  a  big  one,  and 
refuses  to  be  bullied.  The  Whigs  were  amused  at  the 
mutiny  of  a  Tory  subordinate.  The  Tory  rank-and-file 
had  so  often  smarted  under  Peel's  contempt  that  the  blow 
told,  and  Disraeli  had  increased  his  consequence  in  the 
House  by  another  step.  Those  who  judge  of  motive  by 
events,  and  assure  themselves  that  when  the  actions  of  a  man 
lead  up  to  particular  effects,  those  effects  must  have  been 
contemplated  by  himself  from  the  outset  of  his  career,  see 
indication  in  these  speeches  of  a  deliberate  intention  on 
Disraeli's  part  to  supersede  Sir  Robert  Peel  in  the  leadership 
of  the  Conservative  party.  The  vanity  of  such  a  purpose, 
had  it  been  really  entertained,  would  have  been  exceeded 
by  the  folly  of  his  next  movement.  In  the  following  year 
O'Connell's  monster  meetings  had  become  a  danger  to  the 
State.  Peel  had  again  to  apply  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
with  a  general  sense  on  both  sides  that  the  authority  of  the 
Crown  must  be  supported.  Disraeli,  almost  alone  among 
the  English  members,  took  the  same  daring  attitude  which 
he  had  assumed  on  the  Chartist  petition.  Being  in  reality 
a  stranger  in  the  country  of  his  adoption,  he  was  able  to 
regard  the  problems  with  which  it  was  engaged  in  the  light 
in  which  they  appeared  to  other  nations.  The  long  mis- 
management of  Ireland,  its  chronic  discontent  and  miserable 
state,  were  regarded  everywhere  as  the  blot  upon  the 
English  escutcheon,  and  the  cause  of  it  was  the  mutual 
jealousy  and    suspicion   of  parties   at   Westminster.     If  a 


the  irisii  question  105 

remedy  was  ever  to  be  found,  party  ties  must  be  thrown  to 
the  winds.  What,  he  asked,  did  this  eternal  Irish  question 
mean  ?  One  said  it  was  a  physical  question,  another  a 
spiritual  question.  Now  it  was  the  absence  of  an  aristocracy, 
then  the  absence  of  railroads.  It  was  the  Pope  one  day, 
potatoes  the  next.  Let  the  House  consider  Ireland  as  they 
would  any  other  country  similarly  situated,  in  their  closets. 
They  would  see  a  teeming  population  denser  to  the  square 
mile  than  that  of  China,  created  solely  by  agriculture,  with 
none  of  those  sources  of  wealth  which  are  developed  by 
civilisation,  and  sustained  upon  the  lowest  conceivable  diet. 
That  dense  population  in  extreme  distress  inhabited  an 
island  where  there  was  an  Established  Church  which  was 
not  their  Church,  and  a  territorial  aristocracy  the  richest  of 
whom  lived  in  distant  capitals.  They  had  a  starving  popu- 
lation, an  absentee  aristocracy,  and  an  alien  Church,  and, 
in  addition,  the  weakest  executive  in  the  world.  That 
was  the  Irish  question.  Well,  then,  what  would  honour- 
able gentlemen  say  if  they  were  reading  of  a  country  in 
that  position  ?  They  would  say  at  once  '  the  remedy  was 
revolution.'  But  Ireland  could  not  have  a  revolution  ;  and 
why  ?  Because  Ireland  was  connected  with  another  and 
more  powerful  country.  Then  what  was  the  consequence  ? 
The  connection  with  England  became  the  cause  of  the 
present  state  of  Ireland.  If  the  connection  with  England 
prevented  a  revolution,  and  a  revolution  was  the  only 
remedy,  England  logically  was  in  the  odious  position  of 
being  the  cause  of  all  the  misery  in  Ireland.  What,  then, 
was  the  duty  of  an  English  Minister?  To  effect  by  his 
policy  all  those  changes  which  a  revolution  would  do  by 
force.  That  was  the  Irish  question  in  its  integrity.  ...  If  the 
noble  lord  (Lord  John   Russell)  or  any  other  honourable 


106  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

member  came  forward  with  a  comprehensive  plan,  which 
would  certainly  settle  the  question  of  Ireland,  no  matter 
what  the  sacrifice  might  be,  he  would  support  it,  though  he 
might  afterwards  feel  it  necessary  to  retire  from  Parliament 
or  to  place  his  seat  at  the  disposal  of  his  constituency 
('  Life  of  Lord  Beaconsfield,'  T.  P.  O'Connor,  6th  edition 
p.  255,  &c). 

Truer  words  had  not  been  spoken  in  Parliament  on  the 
subject  of  Ireland  for  half  a  century,  nor  words  more  fatal 
to  the  immediate  ambition  of  the  speaker,  if  ambition  he 
then  entertained  beyond  a  patriotic  one  ;  and  many  a  session, 
and  many  a  century  perhaps,  would  have  to  pass  before  a 
party  could  be  formed  in  England  strong  enough  to  carry  on 
the  government  on  unadulterated  principles  of  patriotism. 


YOUNG    ENGLAND  107 


CHAPTER   VIII 

Young  England  and  the  Oxford  Tractarians — Disraeli  a  Hebrew  at 
heart—'  Coningsby  ' — '  Sidonia '— '  Sybil ;  or,  the  Two  Nations  — 
The  great  towns  under  the  new  creed — Lords  of  the  soil  as  they 
were  and  as  they  are  —  Disraeli  an  aristocratic  Socialist  —  Prac- 
tical working  of  Parliamentary  institutions — Special  importance  of 
'Sybil.- 

According  to  Disraeli's  theory  of  government,  the  natural 
rulers  of  England  were  the  aristocracy,  supported  by  the 
people.  The  owners  of  the  soil  were  the  stable  element  in 
the  Constitution.  Capitalists  grew  like  mushrooms,  and 
disappeared  as  rapidly  ;  the  owners  of  the  land  remained. 
Tenants  and  labourers  looked  up  to  them  with  a  feeling  oi 
allegiance  ;  and  that  allegiance  might  revive  into  a  living 
principle  if  the  aristocracy  would  deserve  it  by  reverting  to 
the  habits  of  their  forefathers.  That  ancient  forces  could 
be  awakened  out  of  their  sleep  seemed  proved  by  the 
success  of  the  Tractarian  movement  at  Oxford.  The  bold 
motto  of  the  '  Lyra  Apostolica '  proclaimed  that  Achilles  was 
in  the  field  again,  and  that  Liberalism  was  to  find  its  master. 
The  Oxford  leaders  might  look  doubtfully  on  so  strange  an 
ally  as  a  half-converted  Israelite.  But  Disraeli  and  the 
Young  Englanders  had  caught  the  note,  and  were  endeavour- 
ing to  organise  a  political  party  on  analogous  lines.  It  was 
a  dream.  No  such  regeneration,  spiritual  or  social,  was 
really   possible.      Times    were    changed,    and    men    had 


IOS  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

changed  along  with  them.  The  Oxford  movement  was 
already  undermined,  though  Disraeli  knew  it  not.  The 
English  upper  classes  were  not  to  be  persuaded  to  alter 
habits  which  had  become  a  second  nature  to  them,  or  the 
people  to  be  led  back  into  social  dependence  by  enthusiasm 
and  eloquence.  Had  any  such  resurrection  of  the  past 
been  on  the  cards,  Disraeli  was  not  the  necromancer  who 
could  have  bid  the  dead  live  again.  No  one  had  a  keener 
sense  of  the  indications  in  others  than  he  had.  Fuller  self- 
knowledge  would  have  told  him  that  the  friend  of  D'Orsay 
and  Lady  Blessington,  of  Tom  Duncomb  and  Lytton 
Bulwer,  was  an  absurd  associate  in  an  ecclesiastical  and 
social  revival.  He  seemed  to  think  that  if  Newman  had 
paid  more  attention  to  'Coningsby,'  the  course  of  things 
might  have  been  different.  Saints  had  worked  with  secular 
politicians  at  many  periods  of  Christian  history  ;  why 
not  the  Tractarian  with  him  ?  Yet  the  juxtaposition  of 
Newman  and  Disraeli  cannot  be  thought  of  without  an 
involuntary  smile.  It  would  be  wrong  to  say  that  Disraeli 
had  no  sincere  religious  convictions.  He  was  a  Hebrew  to 
the  heart  of  him.  He  accepted  the  Hebrew  tradition  as  a 
true  account  of  the  world,  and  of  man's  place  in  it.  He 
was  nominally  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England  ; 
but  his  Christianity  was  something  of  his  own,  and  his 
creed,  as  sketched  in  his  '  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck,' 
would  scarcely  find  acceptance  in  any  Christian  com- 
munity. 

I  have  mentioned  '  Coningsby.'  It  is  time  to  see  what 
'  Coningsby  '  was.  Disrael's  novels  had  been  brilliant,  but  he 
had  touched  nowhere  the  deeper  chords  of  enduring  feeling. 
His  characters  had  been  smart,  but  trivial ;  and  his  higher 
flights,  as  in  the  '  Revolutionary  Epic,'  or  his  attempts  to  paint 


'coningsby'  109 

more  delicate  emotion,  as  in  '  Henrietta  Temple '  or  in 
'  Venetia,'  if  not  failures,  were  not  successes  of  a  distinguished 
kind.  He  had  shown  no  perception  of  what  was  simple,  or 
true,  or  tender,  or  admirable.  He  had  been  at  his  best 
when  mocking  at  conventional  humbug.  But  his  talent  as 
a  writer  was  great,  and,  with  a  subject  on  which  he  was  really 
in  earnest,  might  produce  a  powerful  effect.  To  impress 
the  views  of  the  Young  Englanders  upon  the  public,  some- 
thing more  was  needed  than  speeches  in  Parliament  or  on 
platforms.  Henry  Hope,  son  of  the  author  of  '  Anastasius,' 
collected  them  in  a  party  at  his  house  at  Deepdene,  and 
there  first  'urged  the  expediency  of  Disraeli's  treating  in 
a  literary  form  those  views  and  subjects  which  were  the 
matter  of  their  frequent  conversations.'  The  result  was 
'  Coningsby  '  and  '  Sybil.' 

'  Coningsby ;  or,  the  New  Generation '  carried  its  meaning 
in  its  title.  If  England  was  to  be  saved  by  its  aristocracy,  the 
aristocracy  must  alter  their  ways.  The  existing  representa- 
tives of  the  order  had  grown  up  in  self-indulgence  and 
social  exclusiveness  ;  some  excellent,  a  few  vicious,  but  all 
isolated  from  the  inferior  ranks,  and  all  too  old  to  mend. 
The  hope,  if  hope  there  was,  had  to  be  looked  for  in  their 
sons. 

As  a  tale,  '  Coningsby  '  is  nothing  ;  but  it  is  put  together 
with  extreme  skill  to  give  opportunities  for  typical  sketches 
of  character,  and  for  the  expression  of  opinions  on  social 
and  political  subjects.  We  have  pictures  of  fashionable 
society,  gay  and  giddy,  such  as  no  writer  ever  described 
better ;  peers,  young,  middle-aged,  and  old,  good,  bad,  and 
indifferent,  the  central  figure  a  profligate  old  noble  of 
immense  fortune,  whose  person  was  easily  recognised,  and 
whose  portrait  was  also  preserved  by  Thackeray.     Besides 


IIO  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

these,  intriguing  or  fascinating  ladies,  political  hacks,  country 
gentlemen,  mill-owners,  and  occasional  wise  outsiders, 
looking  on  upon  the  chaos  and  delivering  oracular  interpre- 
tations or  prophecies.  Into  the  middle  of  such  a  world 
the  hero  is  launched,  being  the  grandson  and  possible  heir 
of  the  wicked  peer.  Lord  Monmouth  is  a  specimen  of  the 
order  which  was  making  aristocratic  government  impossible. 
To  tax  corn  to  support  Lord  Monmouth  was  plainly  im- 
possible. The  story  opens  at  Eton,  which  Disraeli  describes 
with  an  insight  astonishing  in  a  writer  who  had  no  experi- 
ence of  English  public  school  life,  and  with  a  fondness 
which  confesses  how  much  he  had  lost  in  the  substitutes  to 
which  he  had  been  himself  condemned.  There  Coningsby 
makes  acquaintance  with  the  high-born  youths  who  are  to 
be  his  companions  in  the  great  world  which  is  to  follow,  then 
in  the  enjoyment  of  a  delightful  present,  and  brimming  with 
enthusiastic  ambitions.  They  accompany  each  other  to 
their  fathers'  castles,  and  schemes  are  meditated  and  begun 
for  their  future  careers  ;  Disraeli  letting  fall,  as  he  goes  on, 
his  own  political  opinions,  and  betraying  his  evident  dis- 
belief in  existing  Conservatism,  and  in  its  then  all-powerful 
leader.  He  finds  Peel  constructing  a  party  without  prin- 
ciples, with  a  basis  therefore  necessarily  latitudinarian,  and 
driving  into  political  infidelity.  There  were  shouts  about 
Conservatism  ;  but  the  question,  What  was  to  be  conserved  ? 
was  left  unanswered.  The  Crown  was  to  keep  its  prerogatives 
provided  they  were  not  exercised  ;  the  House  of  Lords 
might  keep  its  independence  if  it  was  never  asserted  ; 
the  ecclesiastical  estate  if  it  was  regulated  by  a  commission 
of  laymen.  Everything,  in  short,  that  was  established  might 
remain  as  long  as  it  was  a  phrase  and  not  a  fact.  The 
Conservatism  of  Sir    Robert    '  offered  no  redress   for   the 


'CONINGSBY'  III 

present,  and  made  no  preparations  for  the  future.  On  the 
arrival  of  one  of  those  critical  conjunctures  which  would 
periodically  occur  in  all  States,  the  power  of  resistance 
would  be  wanting  ;  the  barren  curse  of  political  infidelity 
would  paralyse  all  action,  and  the  Conservative  Constitution 
would  be  discovered  to  be  a  caput  mortuum. 

'  Coningsby  found  that  he  was  born  in  an  age  of  infidelity 
in  all  things,  and  his  heart  assured  him  that  a  want  of  faith 
was  a  want  of  nature.  He  asked  himself  why  governments 
were  hated  and  religions  despised,  why  loyalty  was  dead 
and  reverence  only  a  galvanised  corpse.  He  had  found  age 
perplexed  and  desponding,  manhood  callous  and  desperate. 
Some  thought  that  systems  would  last  their  time,  others 
that  something  would  turn  up.  His  deep  and  pious  spirit 
recoiled  with  disgust  and  horror  from  lax  chance  medley 
maxims  that  would,  in  their  consequence,  reduce  men  to  the 
level  of  brutes.' 

He  falls  in  with  all  varieties  of  men  bred  in  the  confusion 
of  the  old  and  the  new.  An  enthusiastic  Catholic  landlord 
tries  to  revive  the  customs  of  his  ancestors,  supported  by 
his  faith,  but  perplexed  by  the  aspect  of  a  world  no  longer 
apparently  under  supernatural  guidance.  '  I  enter  life,'  says 
Mr.  Lyle,  '  in  the  midst  of  a  convulsion  in  which  the  very 
principles  of  our  political  and  social  system  are  called  in 
question.  I  cannot  unite  myself  with  the  party  of  destruc- 
tion. It  is  an  operative  cause  alien  to  my  being.  What, 
then,  offers  itself?  The  duke  talks  to  me  of  Conservative 
principles,  but  he  does  not  inform  me  what  they  are.  I  ob- 
serve, indeed,  a  party  in  the  State  whose  rule  it  is  to  consent 
to  no  change  until  it  is  clamorously  called  for,  and  then  in- 
stantly to  yield  :  but  those  are  concessionary,  not  Conser- 
vative, principles.     This  party  treats  our  institutions  as  we 


112  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

do  our  pheasants.  They  preserve  only  to  destroy  them 
But  is  there  a  statesman  among  these  Conservatives  who 
offers  us  a  dogma  for  a  guide,  or  defines  any  great  political 
truth  which  we  should  aspire  to  establish  ?  It  seems  to  me 
a  barren  thing,  this  Conservatism  ;  an  unhappy  cross-breed, 
the  mule  of  politics,  that  engenders  nothing.' 

Coningsby  had  saved  the  life  of  a  son  of  a  Northern 
mill-owner  at  Eton.  They  became  attached  friends,  though 
they  were  of  opposite  creeds.  Coningsby's  study  of  the 
social  problem  carries  him  to  Manchester,  where  he  hears 
from  Millbank  the  views  entertained  in  the  industrial  circles 
of  the  English  aristocracy.  Mr.  Millbank  dislikes  feudal 
manners  as  out  of  date  and  degenerate. 

'  I  do  not  understand,'  he  says,  '  how  an  aristocracy  can 
exist,  unless  it  is  distinguished  by  some  quality  which  no 
other  class  of  the  community  possesses.  Distinction  is  the 
basis  of  aristocracy.  If  you  permit  only  one  class  of  the 
population,  for  example,  to  bear  arms,  they  are  an  aristocracy  : 
not  much  to  my  taste,  but  still  a  great  fact.  That,  however, 
is  not  the  characteristic  of  the  English  peerage.  I  have  yet 
to  learn  that  they  are  richer  than  we  are,  better  informed,  or 
more  distinguished  for  public  or  private  virtue.  Ancient 
lineage  !  I  never  heard  of  a  peer  with  an  ancient  lineage. 
The  real  old  families  of  the  country  are  to  be  found  among 
the  peasantry.  The  gentry,  too,  may  lay  claim  to  old  blood  : 
I  know  of  some  Norman  gentlemen  whose  fathers  un- 
doubtedly came  in  with  the  Conqueror.  But  a  peer  with  an 
ancient  lineage  is  to  me  quite  a  novelty.  The  thirty  years' 
Wars  of  the  Roses  freed  us  from  these  gentlemen,  I  take  it. 
After  the  battle  of  Tewkesbury  a  Norman  baron  was  almost 
as  rare  a  being  as  a  wolf.  .  .  .  We  owe  the  English  peerage 
to  three  sources — the  spoliation  of  the  Church,  the  open  and 


'coningsby'  113 

flagrant  sale  of  its  honours  by  the  elder  Stuarts,  and  the 
borough-mongering  of  our  own  times.  These  are  the  three 
main  sources  of  the  existing  peerages  of  England,  and  in  my 
opinion  disgraceful  ones.' 

'  And  where  will  you  find  your  natural  aristocracy  ?  '  asked 
Coningsby.  'Among  those,'  Millbank  answers,  'whom  a 
nation  recognises  as  the  most  eminent  for  virtue,  talents,  and 
property,  and,  if  you  will,  birth  and  standing  in  this  land. 
They  guide  opinions,  and  therefore  they  govern.  I  am 
no  leveller  ;  I  look  upon  an  artificial  equality  as  equally 
pernicious  with  a  factitious  aristocracy,  both  depressing  the 
energies  and  checking  the  enterprise  of  a  nation.  I  am 
sanguine.  I  am  the  disciple  of  progress,  but  I  have  cause 
for  my  faith.  I  have  witnessed  advance.  My  father  often 
told  me  that  in  his  early  days  the  displeasure  of  a  peer  of 
England  was  like  a  sentence  of  death.' 

A  more  remarkable  figure  is  Sidonia,  the  Hebrew  finan- 
cier, who  is  represented  very  much  in  the  position  of  Disraeli 
himself,  half  a  foreigner,  and  impartial  onlooker,  with  a 
keen  interest  in  the  stability  of  English  institutions,  but 
with  the  insight  possible  only  to  an  outsider,  who  observes 
without  inherited  prepossessions.  Sidonia,  the  original  of 
whom  is  as  easily  recognised,  is,  like  Disraeli,  of  Spanish 
descent.  His  father  staked  all  that  he  was  worth  on  the 
Waterloo  Loan,  became  the  greatest  capitalist  in  Europe, 
and  bequeathed  his  business  and  his  fortune  to  his  son. 

The  young  Sidonia  'obtained,  at  an  early  age,  that  ex- 
perience of  refined  and  luxurious  society  which  is  a  necessary 
part  of  a  finished  education. 

'  It  gives  the  last  polish  to  the  manners.  It  teaches  us 
something  of  the  powers  of  the  passions,  early  developed  in 
the  hotbed  of  self-indulgence.     It  instils  into  us  that  inde- 

1 


114  LORD   BEACONSFIELK 

finable  tact  seldom  obtained  in  later  life,  which  prevents  us 
from  saying  the  wrong  thing,  and  often  impels  us  to  do  the 
right.  He  was  admired  by  women,  idolised  by  artists,  re- 
ceived in  all  circles  with  great  distinction,  and  appreciated 
for  his  intellect  by  the  very  few  to  whom  he  at  all  opened 
himself ;  for,  though  affable  and  generous,  it  was  impossible 
to  penetrate  him  :  though  unreserved  in  his  manners,  his 
frankness  was  limited  to  the  surface.  He  observed  every- 
thing, thought  ever,  but  avoided  serious  discussion.  If  you 
pressed  him  for  an  opinion,  he  took  refuge  in  raillery,  and 
threw  out  some  grave  paradox  with  which  it  was  not  easy  to 
cope.  .  .  He  looked  on  life  with  a  glance  rather  of  curiosity 
than  contempt.  His  religion  walled  him  out  from  the  pur- 
suits of  a  citizen.  His  riches  deprived  him  of  the  stimulat- 
ing anxieties  of  a  man.  He  perceived  himself  a  lone  being 
without  cares  and  without  duties.  He  might  have  discovered 
a  spring  of  happiness  in  the  sensibilities  of  the  heart  ;  but 
this  was  a  sealed  fountain  to  Sidonia.  In  his  organisation 
there  was  a  peculiarity,  perhaps  a  great  deficiency  :  he  was  a 
man  without  affection.  It  would  be  harsh  to  say  that  he  had 
no  heart,  for  he  was  susceptible  of  deep  emotions  ;  but  not 
for  individuals — woman  was  to  him  a  toy,  man  a  machine.' 
Though  Sidonia  is  chiefly  drawn  from  another  person, 
Disraeli  himself  can  be  traced  in  this  description.  The 
hand  is  the  hand  of  Esau  ;  the  voice  is  the  voice  of  Jacob. 
'  The  secret  history  of  the  world  was  Sidonia's  pastime.' 
1  His  great  pleasure  was  to  contrast  the  hidden  motive 
with  the  public  pretext  of  transactions.'  This  was  Disraeli 
himself,  and  through  Sidonia's  mouth  Disraeli  explains  to 
Coningsby  the  political  condition  of  England.  The  Consti- 
tution professed  to  rest  on  the  representation  of  the  people. 
Coningsby  asks  him  what  a  representative  system  means. 


'CONINGSBY  115 

He  replies  :  *  It  is  a  principle  of  which  only  a  limited  defi- 
nition is  current  in  this  country.  People  may  be  represented 
without  periodic  elections  of  neighbours  who  are  incapable 
to  maintain  their  interests,  and  strangers  who  are  unwilling. 
.  .  .  You  will  observe  one  curious  trait  in  the  history  of  this 
country.  The  depositary  of  power  is  always  unpopular  :  all 
combine  against  it  :  it  always  falls.  Power  was  deposited 
in  the  great  barons  ;  the  Church,  using  the  king  for  its  in- 
strument, crushed  the  great  barons.  Power  was  deposited  in 
the  Church  ;  the  king,  bribing  the  Parliament,  plundered  the 
Church.  Power  was  deposited  in  the  king  ;  the  Parliament, 
using  the  people,  beheaded  the  king,  expelled  the  king, 
changed  the  king,  and  finally  for  a  king  substituted  an  ad- 
ministrative officer.  For  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  Power 
has  been  deposited  in  Parliament,  and  for  the  last  sixty  or 
seventy  years  it  has  been  becoming  more  and  more  unpopular. 
In  1832,  it  endeavoured  by  a  reconstruction  to  regain  the 
popular  affection  ;  but,  in  truth,  as  the  Parliament  then  only 
made  itself  more  powerful,  it  has  only  become  more  odious. 
As  we  see  that  the  barons,  the  Church,  the  king,  have  in 
turn  devoured  each  other,  and  that  the  Parliament,  the  last 
devourer,  remains,  it  is  impossible  to  resist  the  impression 
that  this  body  also  is  doomed  to  be  devoured  ;  and  he  is 
a  sagacious  statesman  who  may  detect  in  what  form  and  in 
what  quarter  the  great  consumer  will  arise.' 

'  Whence,  then,'  Coningsby  asks,  '  is  hope  to  be  looked 
for?'     Sidonia  replies  : 

'  In  what  is  more  powerful  than  laws  and  institutions,  and 
without  which  the  best  laws  and  the  most  skilful  institutions  may 
be  a  dead  letter  or  the  very  means  of  tyranny  :  in  the  national 
character.  It  is  not  in  the  increased  feebleness  of  its  institu- 
tions that  I  sec  the  peril  of  England.     It  is  in  the  decline  of 

1  z 


Il6  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

its  character  as  a  community.  In  this  country,  since  the  peace, 
there  has  been  an  attempt  to  advocate  a  reconstruction  of 
society  on  a  purely  rational  basis.  The  principle  of  utility  has 
been  powerfully  developed.  I  speak  not  with  lightness  of  the 
disciples  of  that  school  :  I  bow  to  intellect  in  every  form  :  and 
we  should  be  grateful  to  any  school  of  philosophers,  even  if  we 
disagree  with  them  :  doubly  grateful  in  this  country  where  for 
so  long  a  period  our  statesmen  were  in  so  pitiable  an  arrear  of 
public  intelligence.  There  has  been  an  attempt  to  reconstruct 
society  on  a  basis  of  material  motives  and  calculations.  It  has 
failed.  It  must  ultimately  have  failed  under  any  circumstances. 
Its  failure  in  an  ancient  and  densely-peopled  kingdom  was 
inevitable.  How  limited  is  human  reason  the  profoundest 
engineers  are  most  conscious.  We  are  not  indebted  to  the 
reason  of  man  for  any  of  the  great  achievements  which  are  the 
landmarks  of  human  action  and  human  progress.  It  was  not 
reason  that  besieged  Troy.  It  was  not  reason  that  sent  forth 
the  Saracen  from  the  desert  to  conquer  the  world,  that  inspired 
the  Crusader,  that  instituted  the  monastic  orders.  It  was  not 
reason  that  created  the  French  revolution.  Man  is  only  truly 
great  when  he  acts  from  the  passions,  never  irresistible  but 
when  he  appeals  to  the  imagination.  Even  Mormon  counts 
more  votaries  than  Bentham.  The  tendency  of  advanced  civili- 
sation is,  in  truth,  to  pure  monarchy.  Monarchy  is  indeed  a 
government  which  requires  a  high  degree  of  civilisation  for  its 
full  development.  It  needs  the  support  of  free  laws  and  man- 
ners, and  of  a  widely-diffused  intelligence.  Political  compro- 
mises are  not  to  be  tolerated  except  at  periods  of  rude  transition. 
An  educated  nation  recoils  from  the  imperfect  vicariate  of  what 
is  called  representative  government.  Your  House  of  Commons, 
that  has  absorbed  all  other  powers  in  the  State,  will  in  all  pro- 
bability fall  more  rapidly  than  it  rose.  Public  opinion  has  a 
more  direct,  a  more  comprehensive,  a  more  efficient  organ  for 
its  utterance  than  a  body  of  men  sectionally  chosen.  The 
printing-press  absorbs  the  duties  of  the  sovereign,  the  priest, 
the  Parliament.     It  controls,  it  educates,  it  discusses.' 

No  attempt  can  be  made  here  to  analyse  '  Coningsby.' 


'coningsby'  117 

The  object  of  these  extracts  is  merely  to  illustrate  Disraeli's 
private  opinions.  Space  must  be  made  for  one  more — a 
conversation  between  Coningsby  and  the  younger  Millbank. 
'Tell  me,  Coningsby,'  Millbank  says,  'exactly  what  you 
conceive  to  be  the  state  of  parties  in  this  country.' 
Coningsby  answers : 

'  The  principle  of  the  exclusive  Constitution  of  England  having 
been  conceded  by  the  Acts  of  1827- 1832,  a  party  has  arisen  in 
the  State  who  demand  that  the  principle  of  political  Liberalism 
shall  consequently  be  carried  to  its  full  extent,  which  it  appears 
to  them  is  impossible  without  getting  rid  of  the  fragments  of 
the  old  Constitution  which  remain.  This  is  the  destructive  party, 
a  party  with  distinct  and  intelligible  principles.  They  are  resisted 
by  another  party  who,  having  given  up  exclusion,  would  only 
embrace  as  much  Liberalism  as  is  necessary  for  the  moment — 
who,  without  any  embarrassing  promulgation  of  principles,  wish 
to  keep  things  as  they  find  them  as  long  as  they  can  ;  and  these 
will  manage  them  as  they  find  them,  as  well  as  they  can  :  but, 
as  a  party  must  have  the  semblance  of  principles,  they  take  the 
names  of  the  things  they  have  destroyed.  Thus,  they  are 
devoted  to  the  prerogatives  of  the  Crown,  although  in  truth  the 
Crown  has  been  stripped  of  every  one  of  its  prerogatives.  They 
affect  a  great  veneration  for  the  Constitution  in  Church  and 
State,  though  everyone  knows  it  no  longer  exists.  Whenever 
public  opinion,  which  this  party  never  attempts  to  form,  to 
educate,  or  to  lead,  falls  into  some  perplexity,  passion,  or  caprice, 
this  party  yields  without  a  struggle  to  the  impulse,  and,  when 
the  storm  has  passed,  attempts  to  obstruct  and  obviate  the 
logical  and  ultimately  inevitable  results  of  the  measures  they 
have  themselves  originated,  or  to  which  they  have  consented. 
This  is  the  Conservative  party. 

'  As  to  the  first  school,  I  have  no  faith  in  the  remedial  qualities 
of  a  government  carried  on  by  a  neglected  democracy  who  for 
three  centuries  have  received  no  education.  What  prospect 
docs  it  offer  us  of  those  high  principles  of  conduct  with  which 
we  ha\e  fed  our  imaginations  and  strengthened  our  wills  ?     J 


I  I S  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

perceive  none  of  the  elements  of  government  that  should  secure 
the  happiness  of  a  people  and  the  greatness  of  a  realm.  But  if 
democracy  be  combated  only  by  Conservatism,  democracy  must 
triumph  and  at  no  distant  date.  The  man  who  enters  political 
life  at  this  epoch  has  to  choose  between  political  infidelity  and 
a  destructive  creed.' 

'  Do  you  declare  against  Parliamentary  government  ?' 
'  Far  from  it :  I  look  upon  political  change  as  the  greatest  ot 
evils,  for  it  comprehends  all.  But  if  we  have  no  faith  in  the 
permanence  of  the  existing  settlement  ....  we  ought  to  prepare 
ourselves  for  the  change  which  we  deem  impending.  ...  I  would 
accustom  the  public  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  an  existing 
though  torpid  power  in  the  Constitution  capable  of  removing 
our  social  grievances,  were  we  to  transfer  to  it  those  prerogatives 
which  the  Parliament  has  gradually  usurped,  and  used  in  a 
manner  which  has  produced  the  present  material  and  moral 
disorganisation.  The  House  of  Commons  is  the  house  of  a 
few  :  the  sovereign  is  the  sovereign  of  all.  The  proper  leader  of 
the  people  is  the  individual  who  sits  upon  the  throne.' 
'  Then  you  abjure  the  representative  principle  ? ' 
'  Why  so  ?  Representation  is  not  necessarily,  or  even  in  a 
principal  sense,  Parliamentary.  Parliament  is  not  sitting  at  this 
moment :  and  yet  the  nation  is  represented  in  its  highest  as 
well  as  in  its  most  minute  interests.  Not  a  grievance  escapes 
notice  and  redress.  I  see  in  the  newspapers  this  morning  that 
a  pedagogue  has  brutally  chastised  his  pupil.  It  is  a  fact 
known  over  all  England — opinion  is  now  supreme,  and  opinion 
speaks  in  print.  The  representation  of  the  Press  is  far  more 
complete  than  the  representation  of  Parliament.  Parliamentary 
representation  was  the  happy  device  of  a  ruder  age,  to  which  it 
was  admirably  adapted.  But  it  exhibits  many  symptoms  of 
desuetude.  It  is  controlled  by  a  system  of  representation  more 
vigorous  and  comprehensive,  which  absorbs  its  duties  and 
fulfils  them  more  efficiently.  .  .  .  Before  a  royal  authority,  sup- 
ported by  such  a  national  opinion,  the  sectional  anomalies  of 
mr  country  would  disappear.  Under  such  a  system  even 
statesmen  would  be  educated.  We  should  have  no  more  diplo- 
matists who  could  not  speak  French,  no  more  bishops  ignorant 


'SYBIL'  119 

of  theology,  no  more  generals-in-chief  who  never  saw  a  field. 
There  is  a  polity  adapted  to  our  laws,  our  institutions,  our  feel- 
ings, our  manners,  our  traditions  :  a  polity  capable  of  great 
ends,  and  appealing  to  high  sentiments  :  a  polity  which,  in  my 
opinion,  would  render  government  an  object  of  national  affection, 
would  terminate  sectional  anomalies,  and  extinguish  Chartism.' 

Disraeli  was  singularly  regardless  of  the  common  arts  ot 
party  popularity.  He  had  spoken  in  defence  of  the  Chart- 
ists when  he  was  supposed  to  be  bidding  for  a  place  under 
Sir  Robert  Peel  ;  he  had  used  language  about  Ireland, 
sweeping,  peremptory,  going  to  the  heart  of  the  problem, 
which  Whig  and  Tory  must  have  alike  resented;  and  he 
had  risked  his  seat  by  his  daring.  He  was  now  telling  the 
country,  in  language  as  plain  as  Carlyle's,  that  Parliament 
was  an  effete  institution — and  the  House  of  Commons  which 
he  treated  so  disdainfully  was  in  a  few  years  to  choose  him 
for  its  leader.  The  anomalies  in  Disraeli's  life  grow  more 
astonishing  the  deeper  we  look  into  them. 

'  Sybil,'  published  the  next  year,  is  more  remarkable 
than  even  'Coningsby.'  'Sybil ;  or,  the  Two  Nations,'  the  two 
nations  being  the  Rich  and  the  Poor.  Disraeli  had  person- 
ally studied  human  life  in  the  manufacturing  towns.  He 
had  seen  the  workman,  when  trade  was  brisk  and  wages  high, 
enjoying  himself  in  his  Temple  of  the  Muses  ;  he  had  seen 
him,  when  demand  grew  slack,  starving  with  his  family  in  the 
garret,  with  none  to  help  him.  He  had  observed  the  inso- 
lent frauds  of  the  truckmaster.  He  had  seen  the  inner  side 
of  our  magnificent  industries  which  legislation  was  struggling 
to  extend  :  he  had  found  there  hatred,  anarchy,  and  incen- 
diarism, and  he  was  not  afraid  to  draw  the  lurid  picture  in 
the  unrelieved  colours  of  truth. 

The  first  scene  opens  on  the  eve  of  the  Derby,  when,  in 


120  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

a  splendid  club- room,  the  languid  aristocrats,  weary  of  the 
rolling  hours,  are  making  up  their  betting-books — they  the 
choicest  and  most  finished  flowers  of  this  planet,  to  whom  the 
Derby  is  the  event  of  the  year.  They  are  naturally  high- 
spirited  young  men,  made  for  better  things,  but  spoilt  by 
their  education  and  surroundings. 

From  the  youth  we  pass  to  the  mature  specimens  of  the 
breed  who  are  in  possession  of  their  estates  and  their  titles. 
Lord  Marney's  peerage  dates  from  the  suppression  of  the 
monasteries,  in  which  his  ancestor  had  been  a  useful  instru- 
ment. 

The  secretary  of  Henry  VIII. 's  vicar-general  had 
been  rewarded  by  the  lands  of  a  northern  abbey.  The 
property  had  grown  in  value  with  the  progress  of  the  country. 
The  family  for  the  three  centuries  of  its  existence  had  never 
produced  a  single  person  who  had  contributed  any  good 
thing  to  the  service  of  the  commonwealth.  But  their  conse- 
quence had  grown  with  their  wealth,  and  the  Lord  Marney  of 
'  Sybil '  was  aspiring  to  a  dukedom.  He  is  represented  (being 
doubtless  drawn  from  life)  as  the  harshest  of  landlords, 
exacting  the  utmost  penny  of  rent,  leaving  his  peasantry 
to  squalor  and  disease,  or  driving  them  off  his  estates  to 
escape  the  burden  of  the  poor-rate,  and  astonished  to  find 
Swing  and  his  bonfires  starting  up  about  him  as  his  natural 
reward.  The  second  great  peer  of  the  story,  Lord 
Mowbray,  of  a  yet  baser  origin  and  character,  owns  the  land 
on  which  has  grown  a  mushroom  city  of  mills  and  mill- 
hands.  The  ground-rents  have  made  him  fabulously  rich, 
while,  innocent  of  a  suspicion  that  his  wealth  has  brought 
obligations  along  with  it,  he  lives  in  vulgar  luxury  in  his 
adjoining  castle. 

On.  both  estates  the  wretchedness  is  equal,  though  the 


'SYBIL'  121 

character  of  it  is  different.  Lord  Marney  rules  in  a  country 
district.  A  clergyman  asks  him  how  a  peasant  can  rear 
his  family  on  eight  shillings  a  week.  '  Oh,  as  for  that,'  said 
Lord  Marney,  '  I  have  generally  found  the  higher  the  wages, 
the  worse  the  workmen.  They  only  spend  their  money  in 
the  beershops.  They  are  the  curse  of  the  country.'  The 
ruins  of  the  monastery  give  an  opportunity  for  a  contrast 
between  the  old  England  and  the  new,  by  a  picture  of 
the  time  when  the  monks  were  the  gentlest  of  landlords, 
when  exactions  and  evictions  were  unknown,  and  when 
churches  were  raised  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  same 
spots  where  now  rise  the  brick  chimneys  and  factories  as 
the  spires  and  temples  of  the  modern  Mammon-worship. 

In  Mowbray,  the  town  from  which  the  earl  of  that 
name  drew  his  revenue,  the  inhabitants  were  losing  the 
elementary  virtues  of  humanity.  Factory-girls  deserted 
their  parents,  and  left  them  to  starve,  preferring  an 
independence  of  vice  and  folly  ;  mothers  farmed  out  their 
children  at  threepence  a  week  to  be  got  rid  of  in  a  month 
or  two  by  laudanum  and  treacle.  Disraeli  was  startled  to 
find  that  'infanticide  was  practised  as  extensively  and 
legally  in  England  as  it  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Ganges.' 
It  is  the  same  to-day :  occasional  revelations  lift  the  cur- 
tains, and  show  it  active  as  ever  ;  familiarity  has  led  us  to 
look  upon  it  as  inevitable;  the  question,  what  is  to  be 
done  with  the  swarms  of  children  multiplying  in  our  towns, 
admitting,  at  present,  of  no  moral  solution. 

With  some  elaboration,  Disraeli  describes  the  human 
creatures  bred  in  such  places  which  were  growing  up  to  take 
the  place  of  the  old  English. 

'Devilsdust' — so  one  of  these  children  came  to  be 
i  ailed,  for  he  had  no  legitimate  name  or  parentage — having 


122  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

survived  a  baby-farm  by  toughness  of  constitution,  and  the 
weekly  threepence  ceasing  on  his  mother's  death,  was  turned 
out  into  the  streets  to  starve  or  to  be  run  over. 

Even  this  expedient  failed.  The  youngest  and  feeblest  of 
the  band  of  victims,  Juggernaut  spared  him  to  Moloch.  All 
his  companions  were  disposed  of.  Three  months'  play  in  the 
streets  got  rid  of  this  tender  company,  shoeless,  half-naked,  and 
uncombed,  whose  ages  varied  from  two  to  five  years.  Some  were 
crushed,  some  were  lost ;  some  caught  cold  and  fever,  crept  back  to 
their  garrets  or  their  cellars,  were  dosed  with  Godfrey's  Elixir,  and 
died  in  peace.  The  nameless  one,  Devilsdust,  would  not  disap- 
pear :  he  always  got  out  of  the  way  of  the  carts  and  horses,  and 
never  lost  his  own.  They  gave  him  no  food  :  he  foraged  for  his 
own,  and  shared  with  the  dogs  the  garbage  of  the  streets.  But 
still  he  lived  :  stunted  and  pale,  he  defied  even  the  fatal  fever 
which  was  the  only  habitant  of  his  cellar  that  never  quitted  it, 
and  slumbering  at  night  on  a  bed  of  mouldering  straw,  his  only 
protection  against  the  plashy  surface  of  his  den,  with  a  dung- 
heap  at  his  head  and  a  cesspool  at  his  feet,  he  still  clung  to  the 
only  roof  that  sheltered  him  from  the  tempest.  At  length,  when 
the  nameless  one  had  completed  his  fifth  year,  the  pest  which 
never  quitted  the  nest  of  cellars  of  which  he  was  a  citizen  raged  in 
the  quarter  with  such  intensity  that  the  extinction  of  its  swarm- 
ing population  was  menaced.  The  haunt  of  this  child  was 
peculiarly  visited.  All  the  children  gradually  sickened  except 
himself :  and  one  night  when  he  returned  home  he  found  the 
old  woman  herself  dead  and  surrounded  only  by  corpses.  The 
child  before  this  had  slept  on  the  same  bed  of  straw  with  a 
corpse  ;  but  then  there  were  also  breathing  things  for  his  com- 
panions. A  night  passed  only  with  corpses  seemed  to  him 
itself  a  kind  of  death.  He  stole  out  of  the  cellar,  quitted  the 
quarter  of  pestilence,  and,  after  much  wandering,  lay  down  near 
the  door  of  a  factory. 

The  child  is  taken  in,  not  out  of  charity,  but  because 
an  imp  of  such  a  kind  happens  to  be  wanted,  and  Devils- 
dust  grows  up,  naturally  enough,  a  Chartist  and  a  dangerous 


'sybil'—  123 

member  of  society.  But  was  there  ever  a  more  horrible 
picture  drawn  ?  It  is  like  a  chapter  of  Isaiah  in  Cockney 
novelist  dress.  Such  things,  we  are  told,  cannot  happen  now. 
Can  they  not  ?  There  was  a  recent  revelation  at  Battersea 
not  so  unlike  it.  The  East-end  of  London  produces  crimes 
which  are  not  obliterated  because  they  are  forgotten  ;  and 
rag  bundles  may  be  seen  on  frosty  nights  at  London  house- 
doors,  which,  if  you  unroll  them,  discover  living  things  not 
so  unlike  poor  Devilsdust.  For  the  future,  these  waifs  and 
strays  are  at  least  to  be  sent  to  school.  The  school  will 
do  something,  especially  if  one  full  meal  a  day  is  added  to 
the  lessons ;  but  what  is  the  best  of  Board  schools  compared 
to  the  old  apprenticeship  ?  The  apprentice  had  his  three 
full  meals  a  day,  and  decent  clothes,  and  decent  lodging, 
and  was  taught  some  trade  or  handicraft  by  which  he  could 
earn  an  honest  living  when  his  time  was  out.  The  school 
cannot  reach  the  miserable  home.  The  school  teaches  no 
useful  occupation,  and  when  school-time  is  over  the  child 
is  again  adrift  upon  the  world.  He  is  taught  to  read  and 
write.  His  mind  is  opened.  Yes.  He  is  taught  to 
read  the  newspapers,  and  the  penny  dreadfuls,  and  his  wits 
are  sharpened  for  him.  Whether  this  will  make  him  a 
more  useful  or  more  contented  member  of  society,  time  will 
show. 

Devilsdust  was  but  one  of  many  products  of  the  manu- 
facturing system  which  Disraeli  saw  and  meditated  upon. 

He  found  a  hand-loom  weaver  starving  with  his  children 
in  a  garret,  looking  back  upon  the  time  when  his  loom  had 
given  him  a  cottage  and  a  garden  in  his  native  village.  The 
new  machinery  had  ruined  him,  and  he  did  not  complain  of 
the  inevitable.  But,  as  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  learn 
another  trade,  he  argued  that  if  a  society  which  had  been 


124  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

created  by  labour  suddenly  became  independent  of  it,  that 
society  was  bound  to  maintain  those  whose  only  property 
was  labour,  out  of  the  profits  of  that  other  property  which 
had  not  ceased  to  be  productive. 

He  talks  with  a  superior  artisan,  who  says  to  him  ; 

'  There  is  more  serfdom  in  England  now  than  at  any  time 
since  the  Conquest.  I  speak  of  what  passes  under  my  daily 
eyes  when  I  say  that  those  who  labour  can  as  little  change  or 
choose  their  masters  now  as  when  they  were  born  thralls.  There 
are  great  bodies  of  the  working  classes  of  this  country  nearer 
the  condition  of  brutes  than  they  have  been  at  any  time  since 
the  Conquest.  Indeed,  I  see  nothing  to  distinguish  them  from 
brutes,  except  that  their  morals  are  inferior.  Incest  and  infanti- 
cide are  as  common  among  them  as  among  the  lower  animals. 
The  domestic  principle  wanes  weaker  and  weaker  every  year  in 
England  :  nor  can  we  wonder  at  it  when  there  is  no  comfort  to 
cheer  and  no  sentiment  to  hallow  the  home. 

'  I  am  told  a  working  man  has  now  a  pair  of  cotton  stockings, 
and  that  Henry  VIII.  himself  was  not  as  well  off.  ...  I  deny 
the  premisses.  I  deny  that  the  condition  of  the  main  body 
is  better  now  than  at  any  other  period  of  our  history — that  it  is 
as  good  as  it  has  been  at  several.  The  people  were  better 
clothed,  better  lodged,  and  better  fed  just  before  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses  than  they  are  at  this  moment.  The  Acts  of  Parliament, 
from  the  Plantagenets  to  the  Tudors,  teach  us  alike  the  prices 
of  provisions  and  the  rate  of  wages.' 

'  And  are  these  the  people  ?  '  the  hero  of  the  story  asks 
himself,  after  such  conversations.  '  If  so,  I  would  I  lived 
more  among  them.  Compared  with  this  converse,  the  tattle 
of  our  saloons  has  in  it  something  humiliating.  It  is  not 
merely  that  it  is  deficient  in  warmth  and  depth  and  breadth  ; 
that  it  is  always  discussing  persons  instead  of  principles  ; 
choking  its  want  of  thought  in  mimetic  dogmas,  and  its 
want  of  feeling  in  superficial  raillery.     It  is  not  merely  that 


SYBIL*  125 

il  has  neither  imagination,  nor  fancy,  nor  sentiment,  nor 
knowledge  to  recommend  it,  but  it  appears  to  me,  even  as 
regards  manners  and  expressions,  inferior  in  refinement  and 
phraseology,  trivial,  uninteresting,  stupid,  really  vulgar.' 

The  tattle  of  politics  was  no  better  than  the  tattle  of  the 
saloons.  Disraeli's  experience  in  the  northern  towns  had 
shown  him  what  a  problem  lay  before  any  Government  of 
England  which  deserved  the  name.  The  Reform  Bill  was 
now  twelve  years  old,  and  political  liberty,  so  far,  had  not 
touched  the  outside  of  the  disease.  London,  with  its  cliques 
and  parties,  its  balls  and  festivities,  seemed  but  an  iridescent 
scum  over  an  abyss  of  seething  wretchedness.  Here  was 
work  for  rulers,  if  ruling  was  ever  again  to  mean  more 
than  intrigue  for  office  and  manipulation  of  votes.  Devils- 
dusts  by  thousands  were  generating  in  the  vapour  of  Free 
Trade  industry,  while  the  Tadpoles  and  the  Tapers,  the 
wirepullers  of  the  House  of  Commons,  were  in  a  fever  of 
agitation  whether  the  Great  Bedchamber  question  was  to 
bring  back  the  Melbourne  Ministry,  or  whether  Peel  was  to 
have  his  way. 

Tadpole :  The  malcontent  Liberals  who  have  turned  them 
out  are  not  going  to  bring  them  in  again.  That  makes  us 
equal.  Then  we  have  an  important  section  to  work  upon,  the 
Sneaks,  the  men  who  are  afraid  of  a  dissolution.  I  will  be 
bound  we  make  a  good  working  Conservative  majority  of 
twenty-five  out  of  the  Sneaks. 

Taper :  With  the  Treasury  patronage,  fears  and  favours  com- 
bined, and  all  the  places  we  refuse  our  own  men,  we  may  count 
on  the  Sneaks. 

Tadpole :  There  are  several  religious  men  who  have  wanted 
an  excuse  for  a  long  time  to  rat.  We  must  get  Sir  Robert  to 
make  some  kind  of  a  religious  move,  and  that  will  secure  Sir 
Litany  Lax  and  young  Mr.  Salem. 

Taper :  It  will  never  doto  throw  over  the  Church  Commis- 


126  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

sion.  Commissions  and  committees  ought  always  to  be  sup- 
ported. 

Tadpole:  Besides,  it  will  frighten  the  saints.  If  we  could 
get  Sir  Robert  to  speak  at  Exeter  Hall,  were  it  only  a  slavery 
meeting  ! — that  would  do. 

Taper :  It  is  difficult :  he  must  be  pledged  to  nothing,  not 
even  to  the  right  of  search.  Yet  if  we  could  get  up  something 
with  a  good  deal  of  sentiment  and  no  principle  involved,  re- 
ferring only  to  the  past,  but  with  his  practical  powers  touching 
the  present !  What  do  you  think  of  a  monument  to  Wilberforce 
or  a  commemoration  of  Clarkson  ? 

Tadpole :  There  is  a  good  deal  in  that.  At  present  go  about 
and  keep  our  fellows  in  good  humour.  Whisper  nothings  that 
sound  like  something.  But  be  discreet.  Do  not  let  there  be 
more  than  half-a-hundred  fellows  who  believe  they  are  going 
to  be  Under-Secretaries  of  State.  And  be  cautious  about  titles. 
If  they  push  you,  give  a  wink  and  press  your  finger  to  your  lips. 
I  must  call  here  on  the  Duke  of  FitzAquitaine.  This  gentle- 
man is  my  particular  charge.  I  have  been  cooking  him  these 
three  years.  I  had  two  notes  from  him  yesterday,  and  can 
delay  no  longer.  The  worst  of  it  is  he  expects  I  shall  bear 
him  the  non-official  announcement  of  his  being  sent  to  Ireland, 
of  which  he  has  about  as  much  chance  as  I  have  of  being 
Governor-General  of  India.  It  must  be  confessed  ours  is  critical 
work  sometimes,  friend  Taper.  But  never  mind  :  we  have  to 
do  with  individuals  ;  Peel  has  to  do  with  a  nation  ;  and  there- 
fore we  ought  not  to  complain. 

Is  this  a  libel,  or  is  it  a  fair  account  of  the  formation  and 
working  of  English  governments  ?  Let  those  answer  who 
have  read  the  memoirs  of  the  leading  statesmen  of  the 
present  century.  Is  there  anywhere  to  be  found,  in  the 
records  of  the  overthrow  or  building-up  of  Cabinets,  any 
hint,  even  the  slightest,  of  an  insight  into  the  condition  of 
the  country,  or  of  a  desire  to  mend  it  ?  Forces  were  at 
work  shattering  the  bodily  frames  and  destroying  the  souls 
of  millions  of  those  whom  they  were  aspiring  to  guide.     Do 


'sybil'  u; 

we  find  anything  at  all,  save  manoeuvres  for  a  new  turn  of 
the  political  kaleidoscope  ?  Might  not  Sidonia,  might  not 
Disraeli  himself,  reasonably  doubt  whether  such  methods  of 
selecting  administrations  would  be  of  long  continuance  ? 

Enough  of  'Sybil.'  Disraeli  skilfully  contrives  to  dis- 
tribute poetical  justice  among  his  imaginary  characters— 
to  bring  his  unworthy  peers  to  retribution,  and  to  reward 
the  honest  and  the  generous.  He  could  do  it  in  a  novel. 
Unfortunately,  the  reality  is  less  tractable.  '  A  year  ago,'  he 
says,  in  concluding  the  story,  '  I  presumed  to  offer  to  the 
public  some  volumes  ("  Coningsby  ")  that  aimed  at  calling 
their  attention  to  the  state  of  political  parties,  their  origin, 
their  history,  their  present  position.  In  an  age  of  mean 
passions  and  petty  thoughts,  I  would  have  impressed  upon 
the  rising  race  not  to  despair,  but  to  seek  in  a  right  under- 
standing of  the  history  of  their  country,  and  in  the  energies 
of  heroic  youths,  the  elements  of  national  welfare.  The 
present  work  advances  a  step  in  the  same  emprise.  From 
the  state  of  parties  it  would  draw  public  thought  to  the 
state  of  the  people  whom  those  parties  for  two  centuries 
have  governed.  The  comprehension  and  the  cure  of  this 
greater  theme  depend  upon  the  same  agencies  as  the  first. 
It  is  the  past  alone  that  can  explain  the  present,  and  it  is 
youth  alone  that  can  mould  the  remedial  future.  .  .  .  The 
written  history  of  our  country  for  the  last  ten  years  has  been 
a  mere  phantasm.  .  .  .  Oligarchy  has  been  called  Liberty  ; 
an  exclusive  priesthood  has  been  christened  a  National 
Church.  Sovereignty  has  been  the  title  of  something  that 
has  had  no  dominion,  while  absolute  power  has  been 
wielded  by  those  who  profess  themselves  the  servants  of  the 
people.  In  the  selfish  strife  of  factions,  two  great  existences 
have  been   blotted    out    of    the    history   of   England :   the 


128  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

monarch  and  the  multitude.  As  the  power  of  the  Crown 
has  diminished,  the  privileges  of  the  people  have  disap- 
peared, till  at  length  the  sceptre  has  become  a  pageant,  and 
the  subject  has  degenerated  again  into  a  serf.  .  .  . 

'  That  we  may  live  to  see  England  once  more  possess  a  free 
monarchy,  and  a  privileged  and  prosperous  people,  is  my 
prayer  ;  that  these  great  consequences  can  only  be  brought 
about  by  the  energy  and  devotion  of  our  youth,  is  my 
persuasion.  .  .  .  The  claims  of  the  future  are  represented 
by  suffering  millions,  and  the  youth  of  a  nation  are  the 
trustees  of  posterity. 


THE    NEW   CREED  I  29 


CHAPTER    IX 

The  New  Gospel— Effect  on  English  character— The  Manchester 
School— Tendencies  of  Sir  Robert  Peel— The  Corn  Laws— reel 
brought  into  office  as  a  Protectionist— Disraeli  and  Peel— Pro- 
tracted duel— Effect  of  Disraeli's  speeches— Final  declaration  of 
Peel  against  the  Corn  Laws— Corn  Laws  repealed— Lord  George 
Bentinck — Irish  Coercion  Bill— The  Canning  episode— Defeat  and 
fall  of  Peel— Disraeli  succeeds  to  the  Leadership  of  the  Conser- 
vative Party. 

With  the  light  which  is  thrown  by  'Sybil'  on  the  workings 
of  Disraeli's  mind,  it  is  easy  to  understand  the  feelings  with 
which  he  regarded  the  words  and  actions  of  Sir  Robert  Peel. 
He  had  seen,  or  supposed  himself  to  have  seen,  a  poisonous 
fungus  eating  into  the  heart  of  English  life.  In  town  and 
country,  among  the  factory  operatives,  and  on  the  estates 
of  the  rich  and  the  noble,  there  was  one  rapid  process  of 
degeneracy.  The  peasantry  were  serfs,  without  the  redeem- 
ing features  of  serfdom;  the  town  artisans  were  becoming 
little  better  than  brutes.  In  the  cities,  family  and  the 
softer  influences  of  home  were  ceasing  to  exist.  Children 
were  being  dragged  up  in  misery  or  were  left  to  die, 
and  life  was  turned  into  a  flaring  workshop  in  which  the 
higher  purposes  of  humanity  were  obliterated  or  forgotten. 
The  cause  was  everywhere  the  same.  The  gospel  of  poli- 
tical economy  had  been  substituted  for  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
The  new  law  was   to  make  money  ;    the  new  aim  of  all 

K 


130  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

classes,  high  and  low  alike,  was  to  better  their  condition, 
as  it  was  called,  and  make  the  most  of  their  opportunities. 
Each  must  look  out  for  himself:  one  man  was  not  an- 
other's keeper  ;  labour  was  an  article  of  trade,  which  the 
employer  was  to  buy  as  cheap  as  he  could  get  it,  and  the 
workman  was  to  sell  for  the  most  that  he  could  get.  There 
their  duties  to  each  other  ended,  and  the  results  were  the 
scenes  which  he  had  witnessed  in  Marley  and  Mowbray. 
The  further  trade  was  extended  under  the  uncontrolled 
conditions  demanded  by  the  '  Manchester  school,'  the  more 
these  scenes  would  multiply. 

With  the  powerful  Protectionist  majority  returned  by 
the  elections  of  1841,  Peel,  in  Disraeli's  opinion,  had  an 
opportunity  of  bringing  these  demoralising  tendencies  under 
the  authority  of  reason  and  conscience.  The  Corn  Laws 
were  but  one  feature  of  the  problem.  The  real  question 
was  whether  England  was  to  remain  as  she  had  been,  the 
nursing  mother  of  a  noble  breed  of  men,  or  whether  the 
physical  and  moral  qualities  of  a  magnificent  race  were  to 
be  sacrificed  to  a  rage  for  vulgar  wealth.  Disraeli  had  not 
flattered  his  party.  In  Trafford  and  in  the  elder  Millbank, 
he  had  drawn  manufacturers  who  were  splendidly  alive  to 
their  duties.  The  ennobled  landowners  he  had  left  to  be 
represented  by  such  men  as  Lord  Marley.  He  was  a 
Radical  of  the  Radicals,  a  Radical  who  went  to  the  root  of 
the  mischief.  Like  Carlyle,  he  was  telling  his  country  that 
unless  they  brought  authority  to  deal  with  it,  the  England 
which  we  were  so  proud  of  would  speedily  forfeit  her  place 
among  the  nations  of  the  world.  It  is  likely  enough  that 
Peel  would  have  failed  if  he  had  tried.  His  own  followers 
were  thinking  more  of  their  rents  than  of  the  moral  con- 
dition of  the  people.     But  at  any  rate  he  was  not  trying,  and 


SIR   ROBERT   PEEL  1 3 1 

evidently  had  no  thought  of  trying.  He  took  the  course 
which  promised  most  immediate  success.  To  restore  au- 
thority required  an  aristocracy  who  could  be  trusted  to  use 
it,  and  there  was  none  such  ready  to  hand.  Wages  must  be 
left  to  the  market  where  he  found  them.  All  that  he  could 
do  to  help  the  people  was  to  cheapen  the  food  which  was 
bought  with  them,  to  lay  taxation  on  the  shoulders  best 
able  to  bear  it,  and  by  education  and  such  other  means  as 
he  could  provide  to  enable  the  industrious  and  the  thoughtful 
to  raise  themselves,  since  neither  legislation  nor  administra- 
tion could  raise  them.  Cheap  food  and  popular  education 
was  his  highest  ideal.  Peel  could  see  what  was  immediately 
before  him  clearer  than  any  man.  His  practical  sagacity 
forbade  him  to  look  farther  or  deeper. 

But  the  difficulty  of  his  position  lay  in  his  having  been 
brought  into  power  as  a  Protectionist.  The  constituencies 
had  given  him  his  majority  in  reply  to  his  own  Protectionist 
declarations.  If  Free  Trade  was  to  be  made  the  law  of  the 
land  was  Peel  to  repeat  the  part  which  he  had  played  in 
Catholic  emancipation  ?  All  reasonable  Conservatives  knew 
that  the  corn  laws  must  be  modified;  but  the  change,  if 
inevitable,  need  not  be  precipitate.  Peel's  great  defect, 
Disraeli  said  in  his  'Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck,'  was 
that  he  wanted  imagination,  and  in  wanting  that  he  wanted 
prescience.  No  one  was  more  sagacious  when  dealing  with 
the  circumstances  before  him.  His  judgment  was  fault- 
less, provided  that  he  had  not  to  deal  with  the  future.  But 
insight  into  consequences  is  the  test  of  a  true  statesman, 
and  because  Peel  had  it  not  Catholic  emancipation,  Parlia- 
mentary Reform,  and  the  abrogation  of  the  commercial 
system  were  carried  in  haste  or  in  passion,  and  without 
conditions    or    mitigatory    arrangements.       On   Canning's 

k  2 


132  LORD   EEACONSFIELD 

death  the  Tories  might  have  had  the  game  in  their  hands. 
A  moderate  reconstruction  of  the  House  of  Commons,  the 
transfer  of  the  franchises  of  a  few  corrupt  boroughs  to  the 
great  manufacturing  towns,  would  have  satisfied  the  country. 
Peel  let  the  moment  pass,  and  the  Birmingham  Union 
and  the  Manchester  Economic  School  naturally  followed. 
His  policy  was  to  resist  till  resistance  was  ineffectual,  and 
then  to  grant  wholesale  concessions  as  a  premium  to  poli- 
tical agitation.  The  same  scene  was  being  enacted  over 
again.  Sir  Robert  had  rejected  Lord  John  Russell's  eight- 
shilling  duty.  It  appeared  now,  from  the  course  in  which 
he  was  drifting,  that  the  duty  would  be  swept  away  alto- 
gether. 

In  whatever  way  Peel  had  acted  it  is  not  likely  that  the 
state  of  England  at  present  would  have  differed  materially 
from  what  it  is.  The  forces  which  were  producing  either 
the  decay  or  the  renovation  of  the  Constitution,  whichever 
it  proves  to  be,  were  too  powerful  for  the  wisest  statesman 
either  to  arrest  or  materially  direct.  Plato  thought  that  had 
he  been  born  a  generation  sooner  he  might  have  saved 
Greece.  The  Olympian  gods  themselves  could  not  have 
saved  Greece.  But  when  untoward  events  arrive  they  are 
always  visited  on  the  immediate  actors  in  them,  and  Dis- 
raeli visited  on  Peel  the  ruin  of  his  own  party  and  the 
disappointment  of  his  own  hopes.  Perhaps,  as  he  was  but 
half  an  Englishman,  his  personal  interest  in  the  question  at 
issue  was  not  extreme.  It  is  possible  that  he  had  resented 
Peel's  neglect  of  him.  At  any  rate  he  saw  his  opportunity 
and  used  it  to  make  his  name  famous.  Hitherto  he  had 
been  known  in  the  House  of  Commons  as  a  brilliant  and 
amusing  speaker,  but  of  such  independent  ways  that  even 
the    Conservatives    gave   him    but    a   limited   confidence. 


PEEL   AND   DISRAELI  I  33 

So  little  had  he  spared  his  own  friends  in  vote,  speech,  or 
writing  that  he  may  be  acquitted  of  having  dreamt  of 
becoming  their  immediate  leader.  But  Peel  had  laid  himself 
open.  The  Premier's  policy,  supported  as  it  was  by  his 
political  pupils  and  the  Liberal  Opposition,  Disraeli  knew 
to  be  practically  irresistible.  He  was  therefore  spared 
the  necessity  of  moderating  his  own  language.  At  least 
he  could  avenge  his  party  and  punish  what  he  could  not 
prevent.  It  was  his  pride  when  he  made  an  attack  to  single 
out  the  most  dangerous  antagonist.  Sir  Robert  Peel  was 
the  most  commanding  member  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  the  most  powerful  oratorical  athlete. 

Disraeli's  speeches  during  Peel's  Ministry  and  the  effects 
which  they  produced  can  be  touched  but  superficially  in  a 
narrative  so  brief  as  this,  but  they  formed  the  turning-point 
of  his  public  life.  His  assaults  when  he  began  were  treated 
with  petulant  contempt,  but  his  fierce  counter-hits  soon 
roused  attention  to  them.  The  Liberals  were  entertained 
to  see  the  Conservative  chief  dared  and  smitten  by  one  of 
his  own  followers.  The  country  members  felt  an  indignant 
satisfaction  at  the  deserved  chastisement  of  their  betrayer. 
The  cheers  in  Parliament  were  echoed  outside  the  walls 
and  rang  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  Continent.  With 
malicious  skill  Disraeli  touched  one  after  the  other  the 
weak  points  of  a  character  essentially  great  but  superficially 
vulnerable.  Like  Laertes  he  anointed  his  point,  but  the 
venom  lay  in  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  and  the  suffering 
which  lie  inflicted  was  the  more  poignant  because  adminis- 
tered by  a  hand  which  Peel  had  unfortunately  despised. 
Disraeli  was  displaying  for  the  first  time  the  peculiar  epi- 
grammatic keenness  which  afterwards  so  much  distinguished 
him,  and  the  skill  with   which   he  could  drive  his  arrows 


134  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

through  the  joints  in  the  harness.  Any  subject  gave  him 
an  opening.  Peel  supposed  that  he  had  rebuked  and 
silenced  him  by  quoting  in  a  dignified  tone  Canning's  lines 
upon  '  A  Candid  Friend.'  The  allusion  was  dangerous,  for 
Peel's  conduct  to  Canning  had  not  been  above  reproach. 
Disraeli  took  an  occasion  when  the  general  policy  of  the 
Ministry  was  under  discussion  to  deliver  himself  in  his 
clear,  cold,  impassive  manner  of  a  few  sentences  which  hit 
exactly  the  temper  of  the  House.  Peel  was  generally  ac- 
cused of  having  stolen  the  Liberal  policy.  The  right 
honourable  gentleman,  he  said,  had  caught  the  Whigs  bath- 
ing and  had  walked  away  with  their  clothes.  He  had  tamed 
the  shrew  of  Liberalism  by  her  own  tactics.  He  was  the 
1  political  Petruchio  who  had  outbid  them  all.'  Then  came 
the  sting.  Peel  had  a  full  memory,  and  was  rather  proud  of 
the  readiness  with  which  he  could  introduce  quotations. 
Disraeli  first  touched  his  vanity  by  complimenting  him  on 
the  success  with  which  he  used  such  weapons,  '  partly  because 
he  seldom  quoted  a  passage  which  had  not  previously  re- 
ceived the  meed  of  Parliamentary  approbation,  partly  because 
his  quotations  were  so  happy.  .  .  .  We  all  admire  Canning,' 
he  said  ;  '  we  all,  or  at  least  most  of  us,  deplore  his  untimely 
end.  We  sympathised  with  him  in  his  fierce  struggle  with 
supreme  prejudice  and  sublime  mediocrity,  with  inveterate 
foes  and  with  candid  friends.  Mr.  Canning!  and  quoted  by 
the  right  honourable  gentleman.  The  theme,  the  poet,  the 
speaker  ! — what  a  felicitous  combination  ! ' 

The  shaft  which  Peel  had  lightly  launched  was  returned 
into  his  own  breast  and  quivered  there.  The  House  of 
Commons,  bored  with  dulness,  delights  in  an  unusual  stroke 
of  artistic  skill.  The  sarcasm  was  received  with  cheers  the 
worse  to  bear  because  while  the  Radicals  laughed  loud  Peel's 


PEEL   AND   DISRAELI  135 

own  side  did  not  repress  an  approving  murmur.  He  was  like 
the  bull  in  the  Spanish  arena  when  the  chulos  plant  their  darts 
upon  his  shoulders.  '  He  hoped,'  he  said,  '  that  the  honour- 
able member,  having  discharged  the  accumulated  virus  of 
the  last  week,  now  felt  more  at  his  ease  ; '  but  the  barb  had 
gone  to  the  quick,  and  Peel,  however  proudly  he  controlled 
himself,  was  the  most  sensitive  of  men. 

The  tormentor  left  him  no  rest.  A  few  days  later  came 
Mr.  Miles's  motion  for  the  application  of  surplus  revenue  to 
the  relief  of  agriculture.  Peel,  when  in  opposition,  had  argued 
for  the  justice  of  this  proposal.  In  office  he  found  objec- 
tions to  it  ;  and  Disraeli  told  his  friends  that  they  must  not 
be  impatient  with  Sir  Robert  Peel.  '  There  is  no  doubt,'  he 
said,  '  a  difference  in  the  right  honourable  gentleman's  de- 
meanour as  leader  of  the  Opposition  and  as  Minister  of  the 
Crown.  But  that  is  the  old  story.  You  must  not  contrast  too 
strongly  the  hours  of  courtship  with  the  years  of  possession. 
I  remember  the  right  honourable  gentleman's  Protection 
speeches.  They  were  the  best  speeches  I  ever  heard.  But 
we  know  in  all  these  cases  when  the  beloved  object  has 
ceased  to  charm  it  is  vain  to  appeal  to  the  feelings.' 

Sidney  Herbert  had  spoken  of  the  agricultural  members 
as  whining  to  Parliament  at  every  recurrence  of  temporary 
distress.  Disraeli  again  struck  at  Peel,  dealing  Sidney 
Herbert  an  insolent  cut  by  the  way. 

'  The  right  honourable  gentleman,'  he  continued,  '  being 
compelled  to  interfere,  sends  down  his  valet,  who  says  in  the 
genteelest  manner,  "We  can  have  no  whining  here."  But, 
sir,  that  is  exactly  the  case  of  the  great  agricultural  interest, 
that  beauty  which  everyone  wooed  and  one  deluded.  Pro- 
tection appears  to  me  to  be  in  the  same  condition  that 
Protestantism  was  in  1828,     For  my  part,  if  we  are  to  have 


136  LORD   EEACONSFIELD 

Free  Trade,  I,  who  honour  genius,  prefer  that  such  measures 
should  be  proposed  by  the  honourable  member  for  Stockport 
[Mr.  Cobden]  than  by  one  who,  though  skilful  in  Parlia- 
mentary manoeuvres,  has  tampered  with  the  generous  con- 
fidence of  a  great  people  and  a  great  party.  For  myself, 
I  care  not  what  may  be  the  result.  Dissolve,  if  you  please, 
the  Parliament,  whom  you  have  betrayed,  and  appeal  to  the 
people,  who  I  believe  mistrust  you.  For  me  there  remains 
this  at  least,  the  opportunity  for  expressing  thus  publicly 
my  belief  that  a  Conservative  Government  is  an  organised 
hypocrisy.' 

This  speech  became  famous.  O'Connell,  who,  like 
Disraeli  himself,  bore  no  malice,  when  asked  his  opinion  of 
it  said  it  was  all  excellent  except  the  peroration,  and  that 
was  matchless.  Disraeli,  who  had  calmly  watched  the  effect 
of  his  assaults,  told  his  sister  that  '  Peel  was  stunned  and 
stupefied,  lost  his  head,  and  vacillating  between  silence  and 
spleen,  spoke  much  and  weakly,  assuring  me  that  I  had  not 
hurt  his  feelings,  that  he  would  never  reciprocate  person- 
alities, having  no  venom,  &c.  &c.' 

A  wasp  which  you  cannot  kill  buzzing  round  your  face 
and  stinging  when  it  has  a  chance  will  try  the  patience  of 
the  wisest.  The  Maynooth  grant  might  have  been  a  safe 
subject,  for  no  one  had  advocated  justice  to  Ireland  more 
strongly  than  Disraeli  ;  but  he  chose  to  treat  it  as  a  bid 
for  the  Irish  vote.  He  called  Peel  '  a  great  Parliamentary 
middleman,'  swindling  both  the  parties  that  he  professed 
to  serve,  and  with  deadly  ingenuity  he  advised  the  Roman 
Catholic  members  to  distrust  a  man  '  whose  bleak  shade  had 
fallen  on  the  sunshine  of  their  hopes  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century.' 

Driven  beside  himself  at  last,  either  on  this  or  on  some 


THE    CORN    LAWS  1 37 

similar  occasion,  I  have  been  assured  that  Peel  forgot  his 
dignity  and  asked  a  distinguished  friend  to  carry  a  challenge 
from  him  to  his  reviler.  The  friend,  unwilling  to  give 
Disraeli  such  a  triumph  and  more  careful  of  Peel's  reputa- 
tion than  Peel  himself,  did  not  merely  refuse,  but  threatened, 
if  the  matter  was  pursued  farther,  to  inform  the  police.1 

Disraeli  asked  Lord  John  Russell  if  he  was  not  weary 
of  being  dragged  at  the  triumphal  car  of  a  conqueror  who 
had  not  conquered  him  in  fair  fight.  '  Habitual  perfidy,' 
he  said,  was  not  high  policy  of  state.'  He  invited  the  Whig 
leader  to  assist  him  '  in  dethroning  the  dynasty  of  deception 
and  putting  an  end  to  the  intolerable  yoke  of  official 
despotism  and  Parliamentary  imposture.' 

Though  the  Free-Traders  were  revolutionising  the  tariff 
old-fashioned  statesmen  on  both  sides  still  hesitated  at  the 
entire  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws.  It  had  been  long 
assumed  that  without  some  protection  the  soil  of  England 
must  fall  out  of  cultivation.  The  Corn  Law  Leaguers  were 
prepared  even  for  that  consummation,  although  they  denied 
the  probability  of  it.  Disraeli,  laying  aside  his  personalities, 
showed  in  a  noble  passage  that  when  he  chose  he  could 
rise  to  the  level  of  a  great  subject.     He  said— 

'The  leading  spirits  on  the  benches  I  see  before  me 
have  openly  declared  their  opinion  that  if  there  were  not 
an  acre  of  land  cultivated  in  England  it  would  not  be  the 
worse  for  this  country.  You  have  all  of  you  in  open  chorus 
announced  your  object  to  be  the  monopoly  of  the  commerce 
of  the  universe,  to  make  this  country  the  workshop  of  the 
world.  Your  system  and  ours  are  exactly  contrary.  We  invite 
union  ;  we  believe  that  national  prosperity  can  only  he  pro- 
duced by  the  prosperity  of  all  classes.  You  prefer  to  remain 
1   I  do  not  mention  this  story  without  careful  enquiry. 


I  38  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


in  isolated  splendour  and  solitary  magnificence.  But, 
believe  me,  I  speak  not  as  your  enemy  when  I  say  it  will 
be  an  exception  to  the  principles  which  seem  hitherto  to 
have  ruled  society  if  you  can  maintain  the  success  at  which 
you  aim  without  the  possession  of  that  permanence  and 
stability  which  the  territorial  principle  alone  can  afford. 
Although  you  may  for  a  moment  flourish  after  their  de- 
struction, although  your  ports  may  be  filled  with  shipping, 
your  factories  smoke  on  every  plain,  and  your  forges  flame 
in  every  city,  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  form  an  ex- 
ception to  that  which  the  page  of  history  has  mournfully 
recorded,  that  you  should  not  fade  like  Tyrian  dye  and 
moulder  like  the  Venetian  palaces.' 

The  great  Whig  peers,  who  were  the  largest  of  the  ter- 
ritorial magnates,  were  not  yet  prepared  to  cut  their  own 
throats.  Lord  John  was  still  for  his  eight-shilling  duty. 
Peel  was  for  a  sliding  scale  which  would  lower  the  duty 
without  extinguishing  it.  But,  as  Disraeli  observed, { there  is 
nothing  in  which  the  power  of  circumstance  is  more  evident 
than  in  politics.  They  baffle  the  forethought  of  statesmen 
and  control  even  the  apparently  inflexible  laws  of  national 
development  and  decay.'  In  the  midst  of  the  debate  on 
the  customs  duties  came  the  Irish  famine,  and  the  Corn 
Laws  in  any  shape  were  doomed.  Protection  might  have 
been  continued  in  a  moderate  form  if  this  catastrophe  had 
not  occurred,  provided  the  lords  of  the  soil  could  have 
reverted  to  the  practice  of  their  forefathers  and  looked  on 
their  rents  as  the  revenue  of  their  estates,  to  be  expended 
on  the  welfare  of  their  dependents.  But  it  was  not  in 
them  and  could  not  come  out  of  them.  On  the  top  of  dis- 
tress in  England  followed  the  destruction  of  the  sole  means 
of  support  which  the  recklessness  of  the  Irish  proprietors 


THE   CORN    LAWS  1 39 

had  left  to  five  millions  of  peasants.  Sir  Robert  Peel  in- 
formed his  Cabinet  that  the  duties  on  grain  must  be  sus- 
pended by  order  of  Council,  and  that  if  once  removed  they 
could  never  be  reimposed.  The  Cabinet  split ;  Lord  Stanley 
left  him.  He  felt  himself  that  if  the  Corn  Laws  were  to  be 
repealed  he  was  not  the  statesman  who  ought  to  do  it.  He 
resigned,  but  he  could  not  escape  his  fate.  Lord  John 
Russell  could  not  form  a  Ministry  and  '  handed  the  poisoned 
chalice  back  to  Peel,'  who  was  forced  to  return  and  fulfil 
his  ungracious  office.  He  announced  at  the  opening  of  the 
session  of  1846  that  the  debates  had  convinced  him  not  only 
of  the  impolicy  but  of  the  injustice  of  the  Corn  Laws,  and 
he  warned  his  followers  that  if  they  defeated  him  on  a  ques- 
tion of  their  personal  interests  '  an  ancient  monarchy  and  a 
proud  aristocracy  might  not  be  found  compatible  with  a 
reformed  House  of  Commons.'  The  intimation  and  the 
threat  were  received  with  silent  dismay.  Disraeli  alone  was 
able  to  give  voice  to  their  indignation,  and  in  the  style  of 
which  he  had  made  himself  such  a  master  he  said  that  he 
at  least  was  not  one  of  the  converts  ;  he  had  been  sent  to 
the  House  to  advocate  protection,  and  to  protection  he 
adhered.  In  bitter  and  memorable  words  he  compared 
Peel  to  the  Turkish  admiral  who  had  been  sent  out  to 
fight  Mehemet  Ali,  and  had  carried  his  fleet  into  the 
harbour  at  Alexandria,  alleging  as  his  excuse  that  he  had 
himself  an  objection  to  war,  that  the  struggle  was  useless-, 
and  that  he  had  accepted  the  command  only  to  betray  his 
master.  Up  to  this  time  the  Tory  party  had  but  half  liked 
Disraeli.  Many  of  his  utterances  in  the  House  and  out  of 
it  had  a  communistic  taint  upon  them.  i£ow,  forlorn  and 
desperate,,  ;i  helpless  flock  deserted  by  the  guardian  whom 
they  trusted,  they  cheered  him  with  an  enthusiasm  which  is 


140  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

only  given  to  an  accepted  chief.  '  So  keen  was  the  feeling 
and  so  spurring  the  point  of  honour  that  a  flock  deserted 
by  their  shepherds  should  not  be  led,  as  was  intended,  to 
the  slaughter-house  without  a  struggle,  that  a  stimulus  to 
exertion  was  given  which  had  been  rarely  equalled  in  the 
House  of  Commons.' 

Lord  George  Bentinck  sold  his  racehorses  and  converted 
himself  into  a  politician  with  a  vigour  of  which  no  one  had 
suspected  him  of  being  the  possessor.  Bentinck  in  youth 
had  been  Canning's  secretary.  He  was  then  a  moderate 
Whig,  but  had  deserted  politics  for  the  turf.  He  was  roused 
out  of  his  amusements  by  the  menaced  overthrow  of  the 
principles  in  which  he  had  been  bred.  His  sense  of 
honour  was  outraged  by  this  second  instance  of  what  he 
regarded  as  Peel's  double-dealing,  and  the  Tories,  whose 
pride  would  have  been  wounded  by  submitting  avowedly 
to  be  led  by  an  adventurer,  were  reconciled  to  Disraeli 
as  second  in  command  while  they  had  Bentinck  for  his 
coadjutor  and  nominal  chief.  After  the  Peelites  had  sepa- 
rated from  them  they  were  still  a  powerful  minority.  If 
parties  could  but  be  forced  back  into  their  natural  positions 
'  they  could  still  exercise  the  legitimate  influence  of  an 
Opposition  in  criticising  details  and  insisting  on  modifica- 
tions.' Free  trade  '  could  be  better  contended  against  when 
openly  and  completely  avowed  than  when  brought  forward 
by  one  who  had  obtained  power  by  professing  his  hostility 
to  it.'  They  were  betrayed  and  they  had  a  right  to  be 
angry  ;  for  Peel  only,  as  parties  stood,  could  carry  repeal 
complete,  and  it  was  they  who  had  given  Peel  his  power. 

Complaint,  resistance  were  equally  vain.  The  Bill  for 
the  repeal  of  the  Corn  Laws  went  through  its  various  stages. 
On  the  third  reading  on  May  15,  when  the  battle  was  practi- 


THE   CORN    LAWS  141 

callv  over.  Disraeli  again  delivered  a  speech  in  which,  dis- 
pensing with  his  epigrams  and  sarcasms,  he  displayed  the 
qualities  of  a  great  and  far-seeing  statesman. 

'  I  know,'  he  said,  '  that  there  are  many  who  believe  that 
the  time  has  gone  by  when  one  can  appeal  to  those  high 
and  honest  impulses  that  were  once  the  mainstay  and  the 
main  element  of  the  English  character.     I  know,  sir,    that 
we   appeal    to   a    people   debauched   by  public   gambling, 
stimulated    and    encouraged    by    an    inefficient  and    short- 
sighted Minister.     I  know  that  the  public  mind  is  polluted 
by  economic  fancies,  a  depraved  desire  that  the  rich  may 
become  richer  without  the  interference  of  industry  and  toil. 
I    know  that    all    confidence  in  public  men  is  lost.     But, 
sir,  I  have  faith  in  the  primitive  and  enduring  elements  of 
the  English  character.     It  may  be  vain  now  in  the  midnight 
of  their    intoxication    to    tell    them    that  there  will   be  an 
awakening  of  bitterness.     It  may  be  idle  now  in  the  spring- 
tide of  their  economic  frenzy  to  warn  them  that  there  may 
be  an  ebb  of  trouble.     But  the  dark  and  inevitable  hour 
will    arrive.     Then  when    their    spirit  is  softened   by  mis- 
fortune  they  will   recur   to    those   principles  which   made 
England  great,  and  which,  in  our   belief,   alone  can  keep 
England  great.     Then  too,  perhaps,  they  may  remember, 
not  with  unkindness,   those  who,  betrayed   and   deserted, 
were  neither  ashamed  nor  afraid  to  struggle  for  the  good 
old  cause,  the  cause  with  which  are  associated  principles 
the  most   popular,  sentiments  the  most  entirely  national, 
the  cause  of  labour,  the  cause  of  the  people,  the  cause  of 
England.' 

The  Bill  passed  both  Houses,  the  noble  Lords  preferring 
their  coronets  to  their  convictions.  The  Conservative  de- 
feat was  complete  and  irreparable.     '  Vengeance,  therefore 


142  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

had  succeeded  in  most  breasts  to  more  sanguine  sentiments  ; 
the  field  was  lost,  but  at  any  rate  there  was  retribution 
for  those  who  betrayed  it.'  The  desire  of  vengeance  was 
human.  Perhaps  there  was  a  feeling,  more  respectable,  that 
if  Peel  was  allowed  to  triumph  some  other  institution  might 
be  attacked  on  similar  lines  ;  but  it  cannot  be  said  that 
the  occasion  which  the  Conservatives  used  to  punish  him 
was  particularly  creditable  to  them.  Ireland  was  starving, 
and  Ireland  was  mutinous.  Ordinary  law  proving,  as  usual, 
unequal  to  the  demand  upon  it,  Peel  was  obliged  to  bring 
in  one  of  the  too  familiar  Coercion  Bills.  Both  parties 
when  in  office  are  driven  to  this  expedient.  The  Liberals 
when  in  opposition  generally  denounce  it.  The  Conserva- 
tives, as  believing  in  order  and  authority,  are  in  the  habit  of 
supporting  the  Administration,  even  if  it  be  the  Adminis- 
tration of  their  rivals.  However  discontented  Peel  might 
know  his  followers  to  be,  he  had  no  reason  to  expect 
that  they  would  desert  him  on  such  a  ground  as  this.  His 
Coercion  Bill  passed  the  Lords  without  difficulty.  It  was 
read  a  first  time  in  the  House  of  Commons  in  an  interval 
in  the  Corn  Laws  debate.  A  Conservative  Opposition  at 
such  a  crisis  was  at  least  factious,  for  there  was  danger 
of  actual  rebellion  in  Ireland.  It  was  factious  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  organise.  The  opportunity  was  not  a  good 
one,  but  if  it  was  allowed  to  escape  a  second  was  not 
likely  to  offer.  Disraeli  was  a  free-  ancc,  and  had  opposed 
Coercion  before.  Lord  George  had  committed  himself  by 
his  vote  on  the  first  reading.  But  he  had  a  private  grudge 
of  his  own  against  Peel.  They  resolved  to  try  what  could 
be  done,  and  called  a  meeting  of  the  Conservative  party. 
They  found  their  friends  cold.  '  There  is  no  saying 
how    our  men    will   go,'   Lord    George   said   to    Disraeli. 


l'EEL  AND   CANNING  I43 

'  It  may  be  perilous,  but  if  we  lose  this  chance  the  traitor 
will  escape.  I  will  make  the  plunge.'  Lord  George's  avowed 
ground  was  that  he  could  no  longer  trust  Peel  and  '  must 
therefore  refuse  to  give  him  unconstitutional  powers.'  On 
the  merits  he  would  probably  have  been  defeated  ;  but 
the  main  point  was  lost  sight  of  in  the  personal  quarrel 
to  which  the  debate  gave  rise.  Peel's  conduct  on  the 
Corn  Laws  had  revived  the  recollection  of  his  treatment 
of  Catholic  Emancipation.  When  Canning,  in  1827,  was 
proposing  to  deal  with  it  Peel  had  refused  to  join  his 
Ministry  on  this  avowed  ground,  and  Canning's  death 
was  popularly  connected  with  his  supposed  mortification 
at  his  failure  on  that  occasion.  Disraeli,  as  we  have 
seen,  had  given  Peel  one  sharp  wound  by  referring  to  this 
episode  in  his  career.  Lord  George  dealt  him  another  and 
a  worse.  The  object  was  to  prove  that  Peel's  treachery  was  fly 
an  old  habit  with  him.  He  insisted  that  while  he  had 
refused  to  support  Emancipation  if  introduced  by  Canning 
in  1827  he  had  himself  changed  his  opinion  about  it  two 
years  before,  and  that  he  had  himself  heard  him  avow  the 
alteration  of  his  sentiments. 

'  We  are  told  now,'  Lord  George  said,  speaking  on  the 
Coercion  Bill — '  we  hear  it  from  the  Minister  himself — that  he 
thinks  there  is  nothing  humiliating  in  the  course  which  he 
has  pursued,  that  it  would  have  been  base  and  dishonest  in 
him,  and  inconsistent  with  his  duty  to  his  Sovereign,  if  he 
had  concealed  his  opinions  after  he  had  changed  them  ;  but 
I  have  lived  long  enough,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  to  remember 
the  time  when  the  right  honourable  Baronet  chased  and 
hunted  an  illustrious  relative  of  mine  to  death,  and  when 
he  stated  that  he  could  not  support  his  Ministry  because,  as 
leading  member  of  it,  he  was  likely  to  forward  the  question 


144  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

of  Catholic  Emancipation.  That  was  the  conduct  of  the 
right  honourable  Baronet  in  1827,  but  in  1829  he  told  the 
House  he  had  changed  his  opinion  on  that  subject  in  1825 
and  had  communicated  that  change  of  opinion  to  the  Earl 
of  Liverpool.'  '  Peel,'  he  said,  '  stood  convicted  by  his  own 
words  of  base  and  dishonest  conduct,  conduct  inconsistent 
with  the  duty  of  a  Minister  to  his  Sovereign.'  '  He '  (Lord 
George)  '  was  satisfied  that  the  country  would  not  forgive 
twice  the  same  crime  in  the  same  man.  A  second  time 
had  the  right  honourable  Baronet  insulted  the  honour  ol 
Parliament  and  of  the  country,  and  it  was  now  time  that 
atonement  should  be  made  to  the  betrayed  constituencies 
of  the  Empire.' 

This  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  Coercion  Bill,  and  the 
motive  of  a  charge  so  vindictive  could  only  have  been  to 
irritate  passions  which  did  not  need  any  further  stimulus. 
The  manners  of  Parliament  are  not  supposed  to  have  im- 
proved in  recent  periods,  but  the  worst  scenes  in  our  own 
day  are  tame  reproductions  of  the  violence  of  forty  years 
ago.  The  House  of  Commons  was  then  the  real  voice  of 
the  country,  and  the  anger  of  the  Conservatives  was  the 
anger  of  half  a  nation.  Lord  George's  charge  was  based  on 
a  speech  alleged  to  have  been  made  in  the  House  itself. 
It  was  therefore  absurd  to  accuse  Peel  of  secret  treachery. 
Any  treachery  which  there  might  have  been  was  open  and 
avowed.  But  did  Peel  ever  make  such  a  speech  ?  He 
rose  as  if  stunned  by  the  noise,  and  said  peremptorily  that 
the  accusation  was  destitute  of  foundation.  '  It  was  as  foul 
a  calumny  as  a  vindictive  spirit  ever  directed  against  a  public 
man.'  The  House  adjourned  in  perplexity  and  astonish- 
ment. Lord  George  was  positive;  he  had  been  himself 
present,  he  said,  when  the  words  were  spoken.    The  question 


PEEL   AND   CANNING  I45 

became  more  perplexed  on  reference  to  the  reports  in  the 
newspapers.  The  incriminated  passage  was  not  in  the 
report  in  '  Hansard,'  which  had  been  revised  by  Sir  Robert ; 
but  it  was  found  in  the  '  Mirror  of  Parliament,'  and  also  in 
the  '  Times.'  It  was  discovered  also  that  Sir  Edward 
Knatchbull  had  drawn  attention  to  Peel's  words  at  the 
time,  and  had  enquired  why  he  had  not  supported  Canning 
if,  as  he  alleged,  he  had  changed  his  mind  as  early  as  1825. 
This  seemed  decisive.  Lord  George  could  not  speak 
again  by  the  rules  of  the  House,  and  handed  his  authorities 
to  Disraeli  to  use  for  him  when  the  debate  was  renewed. 
Disraeli  was  not  likely  to  fail  with  such  materials,  and 
delivered  an  invective  to  which  the  fiercest  of  his  previous 
onslaughts  was  like  the  cooing  of  a  dove.  He  was  speaking 
as  an  advocate.  It  does  not  follow  that  he  believed  all  he 
said,  but  the  object  was  to  make  Peel  suffer,  and  in  this  he 
undoubtedly  succeeded.  Peel  made  a  lame  defence,  and 
the  matter  was  never  completely  cleared  up.  Sir  Edward 
Knatchbull's  speech  could  not  be  explained  away.  The 
House,  however,  was  willing  to  be  satisfied.  Lord  John 
Russell,  winding  up  the  discussion  and  speaking  for  the 
Opposition,  accepted  Peel's  denial,  declaring  that  both  on 
Catholic  Emancipation  and  on  the  Corn  Laws  he  had  done 
good  service  to  his  country,  but  agreed  that  on  both  occa- 
sions he  had  turned  round  upon  his  pledges  and  ought  not 
to  be  surprised  if  his  friends  were  angry  with  him.  Disraeli, 
in  telling  the  story  afterwards  in  his  Life  of  Lord  George, 
said  that  the  truth  was  probably  this  :  '  that  Peel's  change 
on  the  Emancipation  question  had  not  been  a  sudden 
resolve — that  he  had  probably  weighed  the  arguments  for 
and  agains  for  a  considerable  time,  and  that  Inning  to 
make  a  complicated  and  embarrassing  statement  when  he 

L 


146  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

announced  that  he  had  gone  round,  and  to  refer  by  dates  to 
several  periods  as  to  his  contingent  conduct,  had  conveyed 
a  meaning  to  the  House  different  from  what  he  had  in- 
tended.' Thus  looked  at  his  conduct  might  be  explained 
to  his  entire  vindication.  Disraeli,  however,  still  insisted 
that  both  Bentinck  and  himself  had  been  also  right  in 
bringing  the  charge.  The  point  before  the  House  was 
Peel's  general  conduct.  He  had  twice  betrayed  the  party 
who  had  trusted  his  promises.  Lord  George  said  that  to 
denounce  men  who  had  broken  their  pledges  was  a  public 
duty.  '  If  the  country  could  not  place  faith  in  the  pledges 
of  their  representatives  the  authority  of  the  House  of 
Commons  would  fall.'  However  that  might  be  the  storm 
decided  the  wavering  minds  of  the  Tory  army,  and  with  it 
the  fate  of  Sir  Robert  Peel.  In  voting  against  the  Coercion 
Bill  they  would  be  voting  against  their  own  principles,  and 
the  utmost  efforts  were  made  to  retain  them  in  their  allegi- 
ance. Persuasion  and  menace  were  alike  unavailing.  '  The 
gentlemen  of  England,'  of  whom  it  had  once  been  Sir 
Robert's  proudest  boast  to  be  the  leader,  declared  against 
him.  He  was  beaten  by  an  overpowering  majority,  and 
his  career  as  an  English  Minister  was  closed. 

Disraeli's  had  been  the  hand  which  dethroned  him,  and 
.to .  Disraeli  himself,  after  three  years  of  anarchy  and  un- 
certainty, descended  the  task  of  again  building  together  the 
shattered  ruins  of  the  Conservative  party.  Very  unwillingly 
they  submitted  to  the  unwelcome  necessity.  Canning  and 
the  elder  Pitt  had  both  been  called  adventurers,  but  they 
had  birth  and  connection,  and  they  were  at  least  English- 
men. Disraeli  had  risen  out  of  a  despised  race  ;  he  had 
never  sued  for  their  favours  ;  he  had  voted  and  spoken 
as  he  pleased,  whether  they  liked  jt  or  not.     He  had  ad- 


FALL  OF   PEEL  147 

vocated  in  spite  of  them  the  admission  of  the  Jews  to 
Parliament,  and  many  of  them  might  think  that  in  his 
novels  he  had  held  the  Peerage  up  to  hatred.  He  was 
without  Court  favour,  and  had  hardly  a  powerful  friend 
except  Lord  Lyndhurst.  He  had  never  been  tried  on  the 
lower  steps  of  the  official  ladder.  He  was  young  too — only 
forty-two — after  all  the  stir  that  he  had  made.  There  was 
no  example  of  a  rise  so  sudden  under  such  conditions. 
Put  the  Tory  party  had  accepted  and  cheered  his  services, 
and  he  stood  out  alone  among  them  as  a  debater  of  superior 
power.  Their  own  trained  men  had  all  deserted  them. 
Lord  George  remained  for  a  year  or  two  as  nominal  chief: 
but  Lord  George  died  ;  the  Conservatives  could  only  con- 
solidate themselves  under  a  real  leader,  and  Disraeli  was 
the  single  person  that  they  had  who  was  equal  to  the 
situation.  Not  a  man  on  either  side  in  the  House  was 
more  than  his  match  in  single  combat.  He  had  overthrown 
Peel  and  succeeded  to  Peel's  honours. 

His  situation  was  now  changed.  So  far  he  had  remained 
the  Tory  Radical  which  he  had  first  professed  himself.  He 
had  his  own  views,  and  he  had  freely  enunciated  them, 
whether  they  were  practical  or  only  theoretic.  No  doubt 
he  had  thought  that  use  might  have  been  made  of  the 
reaction  of  184.1  to  show  the  working  men  of  England  that 
the  Tories  were  their  real  friends.  He  knew  that  the  gulf 
which  was  dividing  the  rich  from  the  poor  was  a  danger  to 
the  Constitution.  Put,  instead  of  far-reaching  social  legis- 
lation, Parliament  had  decided  for  the  immediate  relief  of 
cheap  bread.  The  country  was  committed  to  laissez-faire 
and  liberty,  and  no  reversion  to  earlier  principles  was  now 
possible  until  laissez-faire  had  been  tired  cut  and  the 
consequences  of  it  tasted  and  digested.     As  an  outsider  lie 

l  2 


148  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

would  have  been  still  free  to  express  his  own  opinions ;  as 
the  leader  of  a  party  he  had  now  to  consider  the  disposition 
of  his  followers  and  the  practical  exigencies  of  the  situation. 
All  that  was  for  the  present  possible  was  to  moderate  the 
pace  of  what  was  called  Progress,  keep  the  break  upon  the 
wheels,  and  prevent  an  overturn  in  the  descent  of  the 
incline.  In  the  life  of  nations  the  periods  of  change  are 
brief ;  the  normal  condition  of  things  is  permanence  and 
stability.  The  bottom  would  be  reached  at  last,  and  the 
appetite  for  innovation  would  be  satiated. 


DISRAELI   THE   CONSERVATIVE   LEADER       1 49 


CHAPTER  X 

Disraeli  as  Leader  of  the  Opposition —Effects  of  Free  Trade — • 
Scientific  discoveries  —  Steam  —  Railroads—  Commercial  revolu- 
tion—Unexampled prosperity — Twenty-five  years  of  Liberal  gov- 
ernment— Disraeli's  opinions  and  general  attitude  —  Party  govern- 
ment and  the  conditions  of  it — Power  of  an  Opposition  Leader  — 
Never  abused  by  Disraeli  for  party  interests — Special  instances  — 
The  coup  <f Mat— The  Crimean  War— The  Indian  Mutiny— The 
Civil  War  in  America — Remarkable  warning  against  playing  with 
the  Constitution. 

Mr.  Disraeli's  career  has  been  traced  in  detail  from  his 
birth  to  the  point  which  he  had  now  reached.  Hence- 
forward it  is  neither  necessary  nor  possible  to  follow  his 
actions  with  the  same  minuteness.  The  outer  side  of  them 
is  within  the  memory  of  most  of  us.  The  inner  side  can 
only  be  known  when  his  private  papers  are  given  to  the 
world.  For  twenty-five  years  he  led  the  Conservative 
Opposition  in  the  House  of  Commons,  varied  with  brief 
intervals  of  power.  He  was  three  times  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  under  Lord  Derby — in  1852,  in  1858-9,  and 
again  in  1867 — but  he  was  in  office  owing  rather  to  Liberal 
dissensions  than  to  recovered  strength  on  his  own  side. 
Being  in  a  minority  he  was  tillable  to  initiate  any  definite 
policy;  nor  if  the  opportunity  had  been  offered  him  would 
he  have  attempted  to  reverse  the  commercial  policy  of  Peel. 
The  country  had  decided  for  Free  Trade,  and  a  long  Trade 
Wind  of  commercial  prosperity  seemed  to  indicate  that  the 


150  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Manchester  school  had  been  right  after  all.  On  this  ques- 
tion the  verdict  had  gone  against  him,  and  the  opinion 
of  the  constituencies  remained  against  him.  More  than  all, 
what  Cobden  had  prophesied  came  to  pass.  Science  and 
skill  came  to  the  support  of  enterprise.  Railroads  cheapened 
transport  and  annihilated  distance.  The  ocean  lost  its 
terrors  and  became  an  easy  and  secure  highway,  and 
England,  with  her  boundless  resources,  became  more  than 
ever  the  ocean's  lord.  Exports  and  imports  grew  with 
fabulous  rapidity,  and  the  prosperity  which  Disraeli  had 
not  denied  might  be  the  immediate  effect  exceeded  the 
wildest  hopes  of  the  Corn  Eaw  League.  Duty  after  duty 
was  abandoned,  and  still  the  revenue  increased.  The 
people  multiplied  like  bees,  and  yet  wages  rose.  New 
towns  sprang  out  of  the  soil  like  mushrooms,  and  the  happy 
owners  of  it  found  their  incomes  doubled  without  effort 
of  their  own.  Even  the  farmers  prospered,  for  time  was 
necessary,  before  America,  and  Russia,  and  India  could  pull 
down  the  market  price  of  corn.  Meat  rose,  farm  produce 
of  all  kinds  rose,  and  rent  rose  along  with  it,  and  the  price 
of  land.  The  farm  labourer  had  his  advance  of  a  weekly 
shilling  or  two,  and  the  agricultural  interest,  which  had 
been  threatened  with  ruin,  throve  as  it  had  never  thriven 
before.  Althea's  horn  was  flowing  over  with  an  exuberance 
of  plenty,  and  all  classes  adopted  more  expensive  habits, 
believing  that  the  supply  was  now  inexhaustible.  The  lords 
of  the  land  themselves  shook  off  their  panic,  and  were  heard 
to  say  that  '  Free  Trade  was  no  such  a  bad  thing  after  all.' 

When  things  are  going  well  with  Englishmen  they  never 
look  beyond  the  moment. 

Pride  in  their  port,  defiance  in  their  eye, 
We  see. the  lords  of  human  kind  go  by. 


FREE   TRADE   AND    PROGRESS  IS  I 

Our  countrymen  of  the  last  generation  had  confidence  in 
themselves.  They  were  advancing  by  leaps  and  bounds, 
and  the  advance  was  to  continue  for  ever.  Carlyle  told 
them  that  their  '  unexampled  prosperity  '  was  in  itself  no 
such  beautiful  thing,  and  was  perhaps  due  to  special  cir- 
cumstances which  would  not  continue.  Carlyle  was  laughed 
at  as  a  pessimist.  Yet  as  time  goes  on  a  suspicion  does 
begin  to  be  felt  that  both  he  and  Disraeli  were  not  as  wrong 
as  was  supposed.  The  anticipated  fall  in  wheat,  though 
long  delayed,  has  come  at  last ;  at  last  the  land  is  falling  out 
of  cultivation,  and  the  rents  go  back  once  more,  and  the 
labourers  have  lost  their  extra  shillings.  The  English 
farmer  is  swamped  at  last  under  the  competition  of  the 
outer  world,  and  the  peasantry,  who  were  the  manhood  of 
the  country,  are  shrinking  in  numbers.  The  other  nations, 
who  were  to  have  opened  their  ports  after  our  example,  have 
preferred  to  keep  them  closed  to  protect  their  own  manu- 
factures and  supply  their  own  necessities. 

Chimneys  still  smoke  and  engines  clank,  and  the  volume 
of  our  foreign  trade  does  not  diminish,  but  if  the  volume 
is  maintained  the  profits  fall,  and  our  articles  must  be 
produced  cheaper  and  ever  cheaper  if  we  are  to  hold  our 
ground.  As  employment  fails  in  the  country  districts  the 
people  stream  into  the  towns.  This  great  London  of  ours 
annually  stretches  its  borders.  Five  millions  of  men  and 
women,  more  than  the  population  of  all  England  at  the 
time  of  the  Commonwealth,  are  now  collected  within  the 
limits  of  the  Bills  of  Mortality.  Once  our  English  artisans 
were  famous  throughout  Europe.  They  were  spread  among 
the  country  villages.  Each  workman  w.is  complete  of  his 
kind,  in  his  way  an  artist;  his  work  was  an  education  to 
him   as  a   man.      Now  he    is   absorbed    in   the   centres  of 


152  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

industry  and  is  part  of  a  machine.  In  the  division  of 
labour  a  human  being  spends  his  life  in  making  pins'  heads 
or  legs  of  chairs,  or  single  watch  wheels,  or  feeding  engines 
which  work  instead  of  him.  Such  activities  do  not  feed  his 
mind  or  raise  his  character,  and  such  mind  as  he  has  left 
he  feeds  at  the  beer  shop  and  music  hall.  Nay,  in  the  rage 
for  cheapness  his  work  demoralises  him.  He  is  taught  to 
scamp  his  labour  and  pass  off  bad  materials  for  good.  The 
carpenter,  the  baker,  the  smith,  the  mason  learns  so  to  do 
his  work  that  it  may  appear  what  it  professes  to  be,  while 
the  appearance  is  delusive.  In  the  shop  and  manufactory 
he  finds  adulteration  regarded  as  a  legitimate  form  of  compe- 
tition. The  various  occupations  of  the  people  have  become 
a  discipline  of  dishonesty,  and  the  demand  for  cheapness  is 
corroding  the  national  character. 

Disraeli  as  a  cool  looker-on  foresaw  how  it  would  be, 
but  it  was  his  fate  to  steer  the  vessel  in  the  stream  when  it 
was  running  with  the  impetuosity  of  self-confidence.  He 
could  not  stem  a  torrent,  and  all  that  he  could  do  was  to 
moderate  the  extent  of  its  action.  Only  he  refused  to  call  the 
tendency  of  things  Progress.  '  Progress  whence  and  pro- 
gress whither  ?  '  he  would  ask.  The  only  human  progress 
worth  calling  by  the  name  is  progress  in  virtue,  justice, 
courage,  uprightness,  love  of  country  beyond  love  of  our- 
selves. True,  as  everyone  was  saying,  it  was  impossible  to 
go  back  ;  but  why  ?  To  go  back  is  easy  if  we  have  missed 
our  way  on  the  road  upwards.  It  is  impossible  only  when 
the  road  is  downhill. 

His  function  was  to  wait  till  the  fruit  had  ripened 
which  was  to  follow  on  such  brilliant  blossom,  and  to  learn 
what  the  event  would  teach  him;  to  save  what  he  could 
of  the  old  institutions,  to  avoid  unnecessary  interference, 


TARTY   GOVERNMENT  I  53 

and  forward  any  useful  measures  of  detail  for  which  oppor- 
tunity might  offer:  meantime  to  watch  his  opponents  and 
take  fair  advantage  of  their  mistakes  provided  he  did  not 
injure  by  embarrassing  them  the  real  interests  of  the  country. 
Party  government  in  England  is  the  least  promising  in  theory 
of  all  methods  yet  adopted  for  a  reasonable  management 
of  human  affairs.  In  form  it  is  a  disguised  civil  war,  and 
a  civil  war  which  can  never  end,  because  the  strength  of  the 
antagonists  is  periodically  recruited  at  the  enchanted  fountain 
of  a  aeneral  election.  Each  section  in  the  State  affects  to 
regard  its  rivals  as  public  enemies,  while  it  admits  that  their 
existence  is  essential  to  the  Constitution  ;  it  misrepresents 
their  actions,  thwarts  their  proposals  even  if  it  may  know 
them  to  be  good,  and  by  all  means,  fair  or  foul,  endeavours 
to  supplant  them  in  the  favour  of  the  people.  No  nation 
could  endure  such  a  system  if  it  was  uncontrolled  by 
modifying  influences.  The  rule  till  lately  has  been  to  sus- 
pend the  antagonism  in  matters  of  Imperial  moment,  and 
to  abstain  from  factious  resistance  when  resistance  cannot 
be  effectual  in  the  transaction  of  ordinary  business,  but 
within  these  limits  and  independent  of  particular  measures 
each  party  proceeds  on  the  principle  that  the  tenure  of  office 
by  its  opponents  is  an  evil  in  itself,  and  that  no  legitimate 
opportunity  of  displacing  them  ought  to  be  neglected.  That 
both  sides  shall  take  their  turn  at  the  helm  is  essential  if 
the  system  is  to  continue.  If  they  are  to  share  the  powers 
of  the  State  they  must  share  its  patronage,  to  draw  talent 
into  their  ranks.  The  art  of  administration  can  be  learnt 
only  by  practice  ;  young  Tories  as  well  as  young  Whigs 
must  have  their  chance  of  acquiring  their  lessons.  No 
party  can  hold  together  unless  encouraged  by  occasional 
victory.     Thus  the  functions  of  an  Opposition    chief  are 


154  LORD   LEACONSFIELD 

at  once  delicate  and  difficult.  He  must  be  careful  tie  quid 
detrimenti  capiat  Respublica  through  hasty  action  of  his  own. 
He  must  consider,  on  the  other  hand,  the  legitimate  interests 
of  his  friends.  As  a  member  of  a  short-lived  administration 
once  bluntly  expressed  to  me,  '  you  must  blood  the  noses 
of  your  hounds,'  but  you  must  not  for  a  party  advantage 
embarrass  a  Government  to  the  general  injury  of  the 
Empire. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  details  of  past  Parlia- 
mentary sessions  are  for  the  most  part  wearisome  and  unreal. 
The  opposing  squadrons  are  arranged  as  if  for  battle,  exhorted 
night  after  night  in  eloquence  so  vivid  that  the  nation's  salva- 
tion might  seem  at  stake.  The  leaders  cross  swords.  The 
newspapers  spread  the  blaze  through  town  and  country,  and 
all  on  subjects  of  such  trifling  moment  that  they  are  forgotten 
when  an  engagement  is  over,  the  result  of  which  is  known 
and  perhaps  determined  beforehand.  When  the  division  is 
taken,  the  rival  champions  consume  their  cigars  together  in 
the  smoking-room  and  discuss  the  next  Derby  or  the  latest 
scandal.  Questions  are  raised  which  wise  men  on  both 
sides  would  willingly  let  alone,  because  neither  party  can 
allow  its  opponents  an  opportunity  of  gaining  popular  favour. 
The  arguments  are  insincere.  The  adulterations  of  trade 
pass  into  Parliament  and  become  adulterations  of  human 
speech.  It  is  a  price  which  we  pay  for  political  freedom,  and 
a  price  which  tends  annually  to  rise.  Thus  it  is  rightly  felt 
to  be  unfair  to  remember  too  closely  the  words  or  senti- 
ments let  fall  in  past  debates.  The  modern  politician  has 
often  to  oppose  what  in  his  heart  he  believes  to  be  useful, 
and  defend  what  he  does  not  wholly  approve.  He  has  to 
affect  to  be  in  desperate  earnest  when  he  is  talking  of  things 
which  are  not  worth  a  second's  serious  thought.     Everyone 


DISRAELI   AS   OPPOSITION    LEADER  I  55 

knows  this  and  everyone  allows  for  it.  The  gravest  states- 
man of  the  century  could  be  proved  as  uncertain  as  a 
weathercock,  lightly  to  be  moved  as  thistle-down,  if  every 
word  which  he  utters  in  Parliament  or  on  platform  is 
recorded  against  him  as  seriously  meant. 

The  greater  part  of  our  Parliamentary  history  during  the 
twenty-five  years  of  Disraeli's  leadership  of  the  Tory  Opposi- 
tion in  the  House  of  Commons  is  of  this  character.  The 
nation  was  going  its  own  way — multiplying  its  numbers, 
piling  up  its  ingots,  adding  to  its  scientific  knowledge,  and 
spreading  its  commerce  over  the  globe.  Parliament  was 
talking,  since  talk  was  its  business,  about  subjects  the  very 
names  of  which  are  dead  echoes  of  vanished  unrealities. 
It  may  be  claimed  for  Disraeli  that  he  discharged  his  sad 
duties  during  all  this  time  with  as  little  insincerity  as  the  cir- 
cumstances allowed,  that  he  was  never  wilfully  obstructive, 
and  that  while  he  was  dexterous  as  a  party  chief  he  conducted 
himself  always  with  dignity  and  fairness.  It  cost  him  less 
than  it  would  have  cost  most  men,  because  being  not  deeply 
concerned  he  could  judge  the  situation  with  coolness  and 
impartiality.  He  knew  that  it  was  not  the  interest  of  the 
Conservative  party  to  struggle  prematurely  for  office,  and  he 
had  a  genuine  and  loyal  concern  for  the  honour  and  great- 
ness of  the  country.  Any  proposals  which  he  considered 
good  he  helped  forward  with  earnestness  and  ability — pro- 
posals for  shortening  the  hours  of  labour,  for  the  protection  of 
children  in  the  factories,  for  the  improvement  of  the  dwelling- 
houses  of  the  poor.  He  may  be  said  to  have  brought  the 
Jews  into  Parliament  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  they  would 
otherwise  have  been  admitted  there,  for  the  Conservatives 
left  to  themselves  would  probably  have  opposed  their  ad- 
mission to    the  end.     He  could  accomplish  little,    but  he 


156  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

prevented  harm.  The  interesting  intervals  of  the  long  dreary 
time  were  when  the  monotony  was  broken  in  upon  by  in- 
cidents from  without — Continental  revolutions,  Crimean 
campaigns,  Indian  mutinies,  civil  wars  in  America,  and  such 
like,  when  false  steps  might  have  swept  this  country  into 
the  whirlpools,  and  there  was  need  for  care  and  foresight. 
On  all  or  most  of  these  occasions  he  signalised  himself 
not  only  by  refraining  from  taking  advantage  of  them  to 
embarrass  the  Government,  but  by  a  loftiness  of  thought 
and  language  unfortunately  not  too  common  in  the  House 
of  Commons. 

The  coup  d'etat  of  Louis  Napoleon  did  not  deserve  to 
be  favourably  received  in  England.  The  restoration  of  a 
military  Government  in  France  alarmed  half  of  us  by  a  fear 
of  the  revival  of  the  Napoleonic  traditions.  The  overthrow 
of  a  Constitution  exasperated  the  believers  in  liberty.  All 
alike  were  justly  shocked  by  the  treachery  and  violence 
with  which  the  Man  of  December  had  made  his  way  to  the 
throne.  The  newspapers  and  popular  orators,  accustomed 
to  canvass  and  criticise  the  actions  of  statesmen  at  home, 
forgot  that  prudence  suggested  reticence  about  the  affairs  of 
others  with  whom  we  had  no  right  to  interfere.  The  army 
was  master  of  France,  and  to  speak  of  its  chief  in  such  terms 
as  those  in  which  historians  describe  a  Sylla  or  a  Marius  was 
not  the  way  to  maintain  peaceful  relations  with  dangerous 
neighbours.  Neither  the  writers  nor  the  speakers  wished  for 
war  with  France.  They  wished  only  for  popularity  as  the 
friends  of  justice  and  humanity  ;  but  war  might  easily  have 
been  the  consequence  unless  pen  and  tongue  could  be  taught 
caution.  Disraeli  applied  the  bit  in  a  powerful  speech  in 
the  House.  He  had  been  acquainted  with  Louis  Napoleon 
in  the  old  days  at  Lady  Blessington's.     He  had  no  liking 


THE   CRIMEAN    WAR  I  57 

for  him  and  no  belief  in  him  ;  but  he  reminded  the  House 
and  he  reminded  the  nation  that  it  was  not  for  us  to  dictate 
how  France  was  to  be  governed,  and  that  the  language,  so 
freely  used  might  provoke  a  formidable  and  even  just  re- 
sentment. 

The  Crimean  war  he  was  unable  to  prevent,  but  as 
good  a  judge  as  Cobden  believed  that  if  Disraeli  and  Lord 
Derby  had  not  been  turned  out  of  office  in  1852  they  would 
have  prevented  it,  and  a  million  lives  and  a  hundred  millions 
of  English  money,  which  that  business  cost,  need  not  have 
been  sacrificed  over  a  struggle  which  events  proved  to  be 
useless.  Much  was  to  be  said  for  a  policy  which  would  have 
frankly  met  and  accepted  the  Emperor  Nicholas's  overtures 
to  Sir  Hamilton  Seymour.  If  a  joint  pressure  of  all  the 
European  Powers  had  been  brought  to  bear  on  Turkey; 
internal  reforms  could  have  been  forced  upon  her,  and 
preparation  could  have  been  made  peacefully  for  the 
disappearance,  ultimately  inevitable,  of  the  Turks  out  of 
Europe.  If  the  state  of  public  opinion  forbade  this  (and 
Disraeli  himself  would  certainly  never  have  adopted  such  a 
course)  something  was  to  be  said  also  for  adhering  firmly 
from  the  first  to  the  traditionary  dogmas  on  the  maintenance 
of  the  integrity  of  the  Turkish  Empire,  and  this  the  Conser- 
vatives were  prepared  to  do.  Nothing  at  all  was  to  be  said 
for  hesitation  and  waiting  upon  events.  The  Tzar  was 
deceived  into  supposing  that  while  we  talked  we  meant 
nothing,  and  we  drifted  into  a  war  of  which  the  only  direct 
r<  suit  was  a  waste  of  money  which,  if  wisely  used,  might  have 
drained  the  Bog  of  Allen,  turned  the  marshes  of  the  Shannon 
into  pasture  ground,  and  have  left  in  Ireland  some  traces  of 
English  rule  to  which  we  could  look  with  satisfaction. 

The   indirect   consequences  of  fatuities  are  sometimes 


158  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

worse  than  their  immediate  effects.  It  was  known  over  the 
world  that  England,  France,  Turkey,  and  Italy  had  combined 
to  endeavour  to  crush  Russia,  and  had  succeeded  only  in 
capturing  half  of  a  single  Russian  city.  The  sepoy  army 
heard  of  our  failures,  and  the  centenary  of  the  battle  of  Plassy 
was  signalised  by  the  Great  Mutiny.  The  rebellion  was  splen- 
didly met.  It  was  practically  confined  to  the  army  itself,  and 
over  the  largest  part  of  the  peninsula  the  general  population 
remained  loyal ;  but  the  murder  of  the  officers,  the  cruelties 
to  the  women  and  children,  and  the  detailed  barbarities 
which  were  paraded  in  the  newspapers,  drove  the  English 
people  into  fury.  Carried  away  by  generous  but  unwise 
emotion,  they  clamoured  for  retaliatory  severities,  which,  if 
inflicted,  would  have  been  fatal  to  our  reputation  and 
eventually  perhaps  to  the  Indian  Empire.  Disraeli's  pas- 
sionless nature  was  moved  to  a  warmth  which  was  rare  with 
him.  Such  feelings,  he  said,  were  no  less  than  '  heinous.' 
We  boasted  that  we  ruled  India  in  the  interests  of  humanity ; 
were  we  to  stain  our  name  by  copying  the  ferocities  of  our 
revolted  subjects? 

His  influence  was  no  less  fortunately  exerted  at  the 
more  dangerous  crisis  of  the  American  civil  war.  On  all 
occasions  English  instinct  inclines  to  take  the  weaker  side, 
but  for  many  reasons  there  was  in  England  a  particular  and 
wide-spread  inclination  for  the  South.  There  was  a  general 
feeling  that  the  American  colonies  had  revolted  against 
ourselves  ;  if  they  quarrelled,  and  a  minority  of  them  desired 
independence,  the  minority  had  as  good  a  right  to  shake  off 
the  North  as  the  thirteen  original  States  to  shake  off  the 
mother  country.  The  North  in  trying  to  coerce  the  South 
was  contradicting  its  own  principle.  Professional  politicians 
even  among  the  Liberals  were  of  opinion  that  the  trans- 


CIVIL   WAR   IN    AMERICA  1 59 

atlantic  republic  was  dangerously  strong,  that  it  was  disturb- 
ing the  balance  of  power,  and  that  a  division  or  dissolution 
of  it  would  be  of  general  advantage.  Those  among  us  who 
disliked  republican  institutions,  and  did  not  wish  them  to 
succeed,  rejoiced  at  their  apparent  failure,  and  would  willingly 
have  lent  their  help  to  make  it  complete. 

The  Northern  Americans  were  distasteful  to  the  English 
aristocracy.  The  Southern  planters  were  supposed  to  be 
gentlemen  with  whom  they  had  more  natural  affinity.  The 
war  was  condemned  by  three-quarters  of  the  London  and 
provincial  press,  and  when  the  Emperor  Napoleon  invited 
us  to  join  with  him  in  recognising  the  South  and  breaking 
the  blockade  it  perhaps  rested  with  Disraeli  to  determine 
how  these  overtures  should  be  received.  Lord  Palmerston 
was  notoriously  willing.  Of  the  Tory  party  the  greater 
part  would,  if  left  to  themselves,  have  acquiesced  with 
enthusiasm.  With  a  word  of  encouragement  from  their 
leader  a  great  majority  in  Parliament  would  have  given 
Palmerston  a  support  which  would  have  allowed  him  to 
disregard  the  objections  of  some  of  his  colleagues.  But 
that  word  was  not  spoken.  Disraeli  was  as  mistaken  as 
most  of  us  on  the  probable  results  of  the  conflict.  He  sup- 
posed, as  the  world  generally  supposed,  that  it  must  leave 
North  America  divided,  like  Europe,  into  two  or  more 
independent  States;  but  he  advised  and  he  insisted  that  the 
Americans  must  be  left  to  shape  their  fortunes  in  their  own 
way.     England  had  no  right  to  interfere. 

Events  move  fast.  Mankind  make  light  of  perils  es- 
caped, and  the  questions  which  distracted  the  world  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago  are  buried  under  the  anxieties  and 
passions  of  later  problems.  Hereafter,  when  the  changes 
and  chances  of  the  present  reign  are  impartially  reviewed, 


160  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Disraeli  will  be  held  to  have  served  his  country  well  by  his 
conduct  at  this  critical  contingency. 

In  domestic  politics  he  was  a  partisan  chief.  His 
speeches  in  Parliament  and  out  of  it  were  dictated  by  the 
exigencies  of  the  passing  moment.  We  do  not  look  for  the 
real  opinions  of  a  leading  counsel  in  his  forensic  orations. 
We  need  not  expect  to  find  Disraeli's  personal  convictions 
in  what  he  occasionally  found  it  necessary  to  say. 

There  did,  however,  break  from  him  remarkable  utter- 
ances on  special  occasions  which  deserve  and  will  receive 
remembrance.  Two  extracts  only  can  be  introduced  here, 
one  on  the  state  of  the  nation  in  1849,  when  he  spoke  for 
the  first  time  as  the  acknowledged  Conservative  leader,  the 
other  on  Parliamentary  Reform  in  1865,  the  subject  on 
which  his  own  action  two  years  later  called  out  Carlyle's 
scornful  comment.  The  first  referred  to  the  changed  con- 
dition of  things  brought  about  by  the  adoption  of  Free 
Trade. 

'  In  past  times,'  he  said,  'every  Englishman  was  taught 
to  believe  that  he  occupied  a  position  better  than  the  ana- 
logous position  of  individuals  of  his  order  in  any  other 
country  in  the  world.  The  British  merchant  was  looked  on 
as  the  most  creditable,  the  wealthiest,  the  most  trustworthy 
merchant  in  the  world.  The  English  farmer  ranked  as  the 
most  skilful  agriculturist.  .  .  .  The  English  manufacturer 
was  acknowledged  as  the  most  skilful  and  successful,  with- 
out a  rival  in  ingenuity  and  enterprise.  So  with  the  British 
sailor ;  the  name  was  a  proverb.  And  chivalry  was  con- 
fessed to  have  found  a  last  resort  in  the  breast  of  a  British 
officer.  It  was  the  same  in  the  learned  professions.  Our 
physicians  and  lawyers  held  higher  positions  than  those  of 
any  other   countries.  ...  In  this  manner  English  society 


EFFECTS  OF  FREE  TRADE         l6l 

was  based  upon  the  aristocratic  principle  in  its  complete 
and  most  magnificent  development. 

'  You  set  to  work  to  change  the  basis  on  which  this  society 
was  established.  You  disdain  to  attempt  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  best,  and  what  you  want  to  achieve  is  the  cheapest. 
The  infallible  consequence  is  to  cause  the  impoverishment 
and  embarrassment  of  the  people.  But  impoverishment  is  not 
the  only  ill  consequence  which  the  new  system  may  pro- 
duce. The  wealth  of  England  is  not  merely  material  wealth. 
It  does  not  merely  consist  in  the  number  of  acres  we  have 
tilled  and  cultivated,  nor  in  our  havens  filled  with  shipping, 
nor  in  our  unrivalled  factories,  nor  in  the  intrepid  industry 
of  our  miners.  Not  these  merely  form  the  principal  wealth 
of  our  country  ;  we  have  a  more  precious  treasure,  and 
that  is  the  character  of  the  people.  This  is  what  you  have 
injured.  In  destroying  what  you  call  class  legislation  you 
have  destroyed  the  noble  and  indefatigable  ambition  which 
has  been  the  source  of  all  our  greatness,  of  all  our  prosperity, 
of  all  our  powers.' 

The  noble  ambition  of  which  Disraeli  was  speaking  was 
the  ambition  of  men  to  do  their  work  better  and  more 
honestly  than  others,  and  the  rage  for  cheapness  has  indeed 
destroyed  this,  and  destroyed  with  it  English  integrity.  We 
are  impatiently  told  that  the  schools  will  set  it  right  again. 
Character,  unfortunately,  is  not  to  be  formed  by  passing  stan- 
dards, second  or  first.  It  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  attain- 
ments. It  is,  or  ought  to  be,  the  single  aim  of  every  go- 
vernment deserving  the  name,  and  there  is  a  curious  remark 
of  Aristotle  that  while  aristocratic  governments  recognised 
the  obligation  and  acted  upon  it,  democracies  invariably 
forget  that  such  an  obligation  exists.  They  assume  that 
character   will    grow    of  itself.      Of  character   Z-kovov  oiv, 

M 


I 62  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

ever  so  little  would  suffice,  and  so  the  old  republics  went 
to  ruin,  as  they  deserved  to  go.  No  subject  deserves  more 
anxious  reflection.  Yet  Disraeli  is  the  only  modern  English 
statesman  who  has  given  it  a  passing  thought. 

The  second  passage  referred  to  the  playing  with  the 
Constitution  which  had  been  going  on  ever  since  1832. 
Lord  Grey  had  dispossessed  the  gentry  and  given  the  power 
to  the  middle  classes.  The  operatives,  the  numerical 
majority,  were  left  unrepresented.  Neither  party  wished  to 
enfranchise  them,  for  fear  they  might  be  tempted  to  inroads 
upon  property.  Each  was  afraid  to  confess  the  truth,  and 
thus  year  after  year  the  extension  of  the  suffrage  was  pro- 
posed dishonestly  and  dropped  with  satisfaction.  Lord 
John  Russell  made  his  last  experiment  in  1865,  and  Dis- 
raeli gave  the  House  a  remarkable  warning,  which,  if  he 
afterwards  neglected  it  himself,  the  statesmen  who  are  now 
with  light  hearts  proposing  to  break  the  Constitution  to 
pieces  may  reflect  upon  with  advantage. 

'  There  is  no  country  at  the  present  moment  that  exists 
under  the  same  circumstances  and  under  the  same  conditions 
as  the  people  of  this  realm.  You  have  an  ancient,  powerful, 
and  richly  endowed  Church,  and  perfect  religious  liberty. 
You  have  unbroken  order  and  complete  freedom.  You 
have  landed  estates  as  large  as  the  Romans,  combined  with 
a  commercial  enterprise  such  as  Carthage  and  Venice  united 
never  equalled.  And  you  must  remember  that  this  peculiar 
country,  with  these  strong  contrasts,  is  not  governed  by  force. 
It  is  governed  by  a  most  singular  series  of  traditionary 
influences,  which  generation  after  generation  cherishes  and 
preserves  because  it  knows  that  they  embalm  custom  and 
represent  law.  And  with  this  you  have  created  the  greatest 
empire  of  modern  times.     You  have  amassed  a  capital  of 


A   WARNING  163 

fabulous  amount.     You  have  devised  and  sustained  a  system 
of  credit  still  more  marvellous,  and  you  have  established  a 
scheme   so  vast  and  complicated  of  labour   and  industry 
that  the  history  of  the  world  affords  no  parallel  to  it.     And 
these   mighty  creations   are   out   of  all  proportion   to  the 
essential   and   indigenous    elements   and  resources  of  the 
country.     If  you  destroy  that  state  of   society  remember 
this  :  England  cannot  begin  again.    There  are  countries  which 
have  gone  through  great  suffering.     You  have  had  in  the 
United  States  of  America  a  protracted  and  fratricidal  civil 
war,  which  has  lasted  for  four  years  ;  but  if   it  lasted  for 
four  years  more,  vast  as  would  be  the  disaster  and  desolation, 
when  ended,  the  United  States  might  begin  again,  because 
the  United  States  would  then  only  be  in  the  same  condition 
that  England  was  in  at  the  end  of  the  wars  of  the  Roses, 
when  probably  she  had  not  three  millions  of  population, 
with  vast  tracts  of  virgin  soil  and  mineral  treasures  not  only 
undeveloped   but   undreamt  of.     Then   you  have  France. 
France  had  a  real  revolution  in  this  century,  a  real  revolu- 
tion, not  merely  a  political  but  a  social  revolution.     The 
institutions   of  the   country  were   uprooted,   the   order  of 
society   abolished,   even    the    landmarks    and    local  names 
removed   and   erased.      But    France    could   begin    again. 
France  had  the  greatest  spread  of  the  most  exuberant  soil 
in   Europe,  and  a  climate  not  less  genial.     She  had,  and 
always  had,  comparatively  a  limited  population,  living  in  a 
most  simple  manner.     France,  therefore,  could  begin  again. 
But  England,  the  England  we  know,  the  England  we  live 
in,  the  England  of  which  we  are  proud,  could  not  begin 
again.    I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  after  great  trouble  Eng- 
land would  Income  a  howling  wilderness,  or  doubt  that  the 
good  sense  of  the  people  would  to  some  degree  prevail,  and 

M  2 


164  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

some  fragments  of  the  national  character  survive;  but  it 
would  not  be  the  old  England,  the  England  of  power  and 
tradition  and  capital,  that  now  exists.  It  is  not  in  the  nature 
of  things.  And,  sir,  under  these  circumstances  I  hope  the 
House,  when  the  question  is  one  impeaching  the  character 
of  our  Constitution,  will  hesitate;  that  it  will  sanction  no 
step  that  has  a  tendency  to  democracy,  but  that  it  will  main- 
tain the  ordered  state  of  free  England  in  which  we  live.' 


'tancred'  165 


CHAPTER   XI 

Literary  work — 'Tancred  ;  or,  the  New  Crusade' — Modern  philosophy 
—The  '  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History  of  Creation  ' — '  Life  of  Lord 
George  Bentinck  ' — Disraeli's  religious  views— Revelation  as  op- 
posed to  science— Dislike  and  dread  of  Rationalism — Religion  and 
statesmanship — The  national  creed  the  supplement  of  the  national 
law — Speech  in  the  theatre  at  Oxford— Disraeli  on  the  side  of  the 
angels. 

As  Disraeli's  public  life  grew  more  absorbing  his  literary 
work  was  necessarily  suspended.  But  before  the  weight 
of  leadership  was  finally  laid  upon  him  he  had  written  two 
more  books — '  Tancred  ;  or,  the  New  Crusade,'  the  third 
of  the  series  of  novels  which  he  called  a  trilogy,  and 
the  biography  of  his  friend  and  comrade  Lord  George 
Bentinck. 

'Tancred  '  of  all  his  writings  was  that  which  he  himself 
most  esteemed.  When  it  was  composed  he  was  still  under 
the  illusion  of  a  possible  regenerated  aristocracy.  He  saw 
that  they  had  noble  qualities,  but  they  wanted  the  inspira- 
tion of  a  genuine  religious  belief.  Tancred,  the  only  child 
and  heir  of  a  ducal  family,  is  an  enthusiastic  and  thought- 
ful youth  with  high  aspirations  after  excellence.  He  is  a 
descendant  of  the  Crusaders,  and  his  mind  turns  back  to  the 
land  which  was  the  birthplace  of  his  nominal  creed.  There 
alone  the  Maker  of  the  universe  had  held  direct  communi- 
cation with   man.     There    alone,  perhaps,  it  was  likely  that 


I 66  LORD   REACONSFIELD 

He  would  communicate  with  his  creature  again.  Christian 
Europe  still  regarded  the  Israelites  as  the  chosen  people. 
Half  of  it  still  worshipped  a  Jew  and  the  other  half  a  Jewess. 
But  between  criticism  and  science  and  materialism,  and  the 
enervating  influence  of  modern  habits,  the  belief  which 
lingered  in  form  had  lost  its  commanding  power. 

Before  the  diseases  of  society  could  be  cured  the  creed 
must  be  restored  to  its  authority.  The  Tractarians  were 
saying  the  same  thing  in  tones  of  serious  conviction. 
Disraeli,  the  politician  and  the  man  of  the  world,  was 
repeating  it  in  a  tone  which  wavered  between  mockery  and 
earnestness,  the  mockery,  perhaps,  being  used  as  a  veil  to 
cover  feelings  more  real  than  they  seemed. 

Tancred,  on  leaving  the  University  where  he  had 
brilliantly  distinguished  himself,  is  plunged  into  the  London 
world.  He  meets  attractive  beings,  whose  souls,  he  ima- 
gines, must  be  as  beautiful  as  their  faces.  One  illusive 
charmer  proves  to  be  a  gambler  on  the  Stock  Exchange  ; 
another  has  been  studying  the  'Vestiges  of  the  Natural 
History  of  Creation,'  called  here  '  Revelations  of  Chaos,' 
and  expounds  the  great  mystery  to  him  in  a  gilded  drawing- 
room. 

'"The  subject  is  treated  scientifically,"  said  the  Lady 
Constance.  "  Everything  is  explained  by  geology  and 
astronomy,  and  in  that  way  it  shows  you  exactly  how  a  star 
is  formed.  Nothing  can  be  so  pretty,  a  cluster  of  vapour, 
the  cream  of  the  Milky  Way,  a  sort  of  celestial  cheese 
churned  into  light.     You  must  read  it.     'Tis  charming." 

'  "  Nobody  ever  saw  a  star  formed,"  said  Tancred. 

'"Perhaps  not.  You  musl  read  the  'Revelations;'  it  is  all 
explained.  But  what  is  more  interesting  is  the  way  in  which 
man  has  been  developed.     You  know  all  is  development. 


'tancred'  167 

The  principle  is  perpetually  going  on.  First  there  was 
nothing;  then  there  was  something;  then — I  forget  the 
next.  I  think  there  were  shells,  then  fishes.  Then  came — 
let  me  see — did  we  come  next  ?  Never  mind  that ;  we 
came  at  last,  and  at  the  next  change  there  will  be  something 
very  superior  to  us,  something  with  wings.  Ah,  that  is  it  ! 
we  were  fishes.  I  believe  we  shall  be  crows  ;  but  you  must 
read  it." 

'"  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  was  a  fish,"  said  Tancred. 

'  "  Oh  !  but  it  is  all  proved.  Read  the  book.  It  is 
impossible  to  contradict  anything  in  it ;  you  understand  it 
is  all  science.  Everything  is  proved  by  geology,  you  know. 
You  see  exactly  how  everything  is  made,  how  many  worlds 
there  have  been,  how  long  they  lasted,  what  went  before, 
what  comes  next.  We  are  a  link  in  the  chain  as  inferior 
animals  were  that  preceded  us.  We  in  time  shall  be 
inferior.  All  that  will  remain  of  us  will  be  some  relics  in  a 
new  Red  Sandstone.  This  is  development.  We  had  fins  ; 
we  may  have  wings."  ' 

The  theory  thus  airily  sketched  has  been  established 
since,  in  a  more  completed  argument,  by  Darwin.  Such 
solid  evidence  as  there  is  for  it  has  been  before  mankind 
for  thousands  of  years,  and  has  not  seemed  unanswerable. 
The  Jews  and  the  Greeks  knew  as  well  as  modern  philoso- 
phers that  human  bodies  are  built  on  the  same  type,  and 
are  bred  and  supported  by  the  same  means  as  the  bodies  of 
animals  ;  that  the  minds  of  animals  are  in  the  same  way 
clumsy  likenesses  of  ours.  Compared  to  the  real  weight  of 
these  acknowledged  facts  the  additions  of  Darwin,  or  ot 
the  author  of  the  'Vestiges,'  are  relatively  nothing.  If 
the  doctrine  of  development  has  passed  into  popular 
acceptance,   if   it    has     been    received    into    Churches    and 


I 63  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

adapted  to  Catholic  theology,  the  explanation  is  not  in  the 
increased  form  of  evidence  but  in  a  change  in  ourselves. 
Candid  consideration  of  our  natures,  as  we  now  find  them 
makes  it  appear  not  so  improbable  that  we  are  but  animals 
after  all.  Tancred,  fresh  from  Tractarian  Oxford,  is  uncon- 
vinced. He  hurries  to  Palestine,  sees  a  vision  of  angels  on 
Mount  Sinai,  falls  in  love  with  a  Jewish  maiden  who  is  an 
embodied  spirit  of  inspiration,  and  is  interrupted  at  the 
moment  of  pouring  out  his  homage  by  the  arrival  of  '  the 
Duke  and  Duchess  at  Jerusalem.'  Whether  the  coming 
of  these  illustrious  persons  was  to  end  in  a  blessing  on 
his  enthusiasm  or  in  recalling  him  to  a  better  recogni- 
tion of  what  was  due  to  his  station  in  society  the  story  is 
silent. 

The  '  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck  '  is  an  admirably 
written  biography  of  the  friend  who  had  stood  by  Disraeli 
in  his  conflict  with  Peel,  and  who,  after  living  long  enough 
to  show  promise  of  eminence,  had  suddenly  and  prematurely 
died.  To'  the  student  of  the  Parliamentary  history  of 
those  times  the  book  is  of  great  value.  To  the  general 
reader  the  most  interesting  parts  of  it  are  those  which  throw 
light  on  Disraeli's  own  mind. 

The  most  important  fact  to  every  man  is  his  religion.  If 
we  would  know  what  a  man  is  we  ask  what  notions  he  has 
formed  about  his  duty  to  man  and  God.  The  question  is 
often  more  easily  asked  than  answered,  for  ordinary 
persons  repeat  what  they  have  learnt,  and  have  formed  no 
clear  notions  at  all ;  and  the  few  wise,  though  at  bottom 
they  may  be  as  orthodox  as  a  bishop,  prefer  usually  to  keep 
their  thoughts  to  themselves.  Disraeli,  however,  in  this 
book  invites  attention  to  his  own  views.  An  insincere 
profession  on  such  a  subject  forfeits  the  respect  of  every- 


ALTERNATIVE   THEORIES   OF    LIFE  169 

one,  and  we  are  entitled  to  examine  what  he  says  and  to 
enquire  how  far  he  means  it. 

Those  who  cannot  bear  suspense  and  feel  the  necessity 
of  arriving  at  a  positive  conclusion,  make  their  choice 
between  two  opinions — one,  that  God  created  the  world 
and  created  man  to  serve  Him,  that  He  gave  to  man  a  reve- 
lation of  His  law  and  holds  him  answerable  for  disobedience 
to  it  :  the  other,  that  the  world  has  been  generated  by  the 
impersonal  forces  of  nature  :  that  all  things  in  it,  animate 
and  inanimate,  find  their  places  and  perform  their  functions 
according  to  their  several  powers  and  properties  ;  that  man 
having  ampler  faculties  than  other  animals,  discovers  the 
rules  which  are  good  for  him  to  follow,  as  he  discovers 
other  things,  and  that  what  he  calls  '  revelations '  are  no 
more  than  successive  products  of  the  genius  of  gifted 
members  of  his  race  thrown  out  in  a  series  of  ages.  The 
second  of  these  theories  is  what  we  generally  call  the  'creed 
of  science;'  the  first  is  the  religious  and  is  represented 
by  Judaism  and  Christianity.  Disraeli,  with  a  confessed 
pride  in  belonging  himself  to  the  favoured  race,  desires  us 
to  understand  that  he  receives  with  full  and  entire  convic- 
tion the  fact  that  a  revelation  was  really  made  to  his  fore- 
fathers, and  rejects  the  opposite  speculation  as  unsupported 
by  evidence  and  degrading  to  human  nature.  The  subject 
is  introduced  in  an  argument  for  the  admission  of  the  Jews 
to  Parliament.  He  does  not  plead  for  their  admission  on  the 
principle  of  '  toleration,'  which  he  rejects  as  indifferentism, 
but  on  the  special  merits  of  the  Jews  themselves,  and 
on  their  services  to  mankind.  He  regards  Christianity  as 
simply  completed  Judaism.  Those  who  profess  to  be  Jews 
only  he  considers  unfortunate  in  believing  only  the  first 
part  of  their   religion,  but   still   as  defending  and  asserting 


170  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

the  spiritual  view  of  man's  nature  in  opposition  to  the  scien- 
tific, and  as  holding  a  peculiar  place  in  the  providential 
dispensation.  He  speaks  of  the  mysteries  of  Christianity 
in  a  tone  which,  if  not  sincere,  is  detestable.  '  If,'  he  says, 
'  the  Jews  had  not  prevailed  upon  the  Romans  to  crucify 
our  Lord,  what  would  have  become  of  the  atonement  ? 
But  the  human  mind  cannot  contemplate  the  idea  that  the 
most  important  deed  of  time  could  depend  upon  human 
will.  The  immolator  was  preordained,  like  the  Victim,  and 
the  holy  race  supplied  both.'  The  most  orthodox  divine 
could  not  use  severer  words  of  censure  than  Disraeli  used  for 
the  critical  rationalism  which  treats  the  sacred  history  as  a 
myth — for  Bishop  Colenso,  for  the  Essayists  and  Reviewers. 
His  words  have  not  the  ring  of  the  genuine  theological  metal. 
Artificial  and  elaborate  diction  is  not  the  form  in  which 
simple  belief  expresses  itself.  Yet  the  fault  may  not  be 
entirely  in  Disraeli.  Even  when  most  in  earnest  he  was 
inveterately  affected.  It  is  to  be  remembered  also  that 
in  his  real  nature  he  remained  a  Jew,  and  his  thoughts  on 
these  great  subjects  ran  on  Asiatic  rather  than  on  European 
lines.  We  imagine  that  the  Scriptures  must  be  read  every- 
where into  the  same  meaning  ;  we  forget  how  much 
European  thought  has  passed  into  them  through  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Church  and  through  the  various  translations. 
In  the  English  version  St.  Paul  reasons  like  an  Englishman. 
A  Jew  reads  in  St.  Paul's  language  allusions  to  oriental 
customs  and  beliefs  of  which  Europeans  know  nothing  •  we 
have  therefore  no  reason  to  suspect  Disraeli  of  insincerity 
because  he  did  not  express  himself  as  we  do. 

Perhaps  the  truth  may  be  this  :  He  was  a  Conservative 
English  statesman  ;  he  knew  that  the  English  Church  was 
the  most  powerful  Conservative  institution  still  remaining. 


RELIGION    AND   THE   STATE  171 

Criticism  was  eating  into  it  on  one  side,  and  ritualism  on 
the  other,  breaking  through  the  old  use  and  wont,  the 
traditionary  habits  which  were  its  strongest  bulwarks.  He 
wished  well  to  the  Church.  He  was  himself  a  regular  com- 
municant, and  he  desired  to  keep  it  as  it  was.  He  believed 
in  the  religious  principle  as  against  the  philosophic  ;  and 
from  the  nature  of  his  mind  he  must  have  known  that 
national  religions  do  not  rest  upon  argument  and  evidence. 
When  forms  vary  from  age  to  age  and  country  to  country 
no  one  of  them  can  be  absolutely  free  from  error.  Plato, 
having  drawn  the  model  of  a  commonwealth  with  a  code 
of  laws  as  precise  as  positive  enactment  can  prescribe,  goes 
on  to  say  that  for  conduct  in  ordinary  life  which  law  cannot 
reach  there  is  the  further  rule  of  religion.  Religion,  how- 
ever, is  a  thing  which  grows  and  cannot  be  made.  The 
central  idea  that  man  is  a  responsible  being  is  everywhere 
the  same  ;  but  the  idea  shapes  various  forms  for  itself,  into 
which  legend,  speculation,  and  prevailing  opinions  necessarily 
enter.  As  time  goes  on,  therefore,  questions  rise  concerning 
this  or  that  fact  and  this  or  that  ceremony,  which  if  indulged 
will  create  general  scepticism.  Such  enquiries  must  be  sternly 
repressed.  In  religion  lies  the  only  guidance  for  human  life. 
The  wise  legislator,  therefore,  will  regard  the  Church  of  his 
country  as  the  best  support  of  the  State.  The  subject  will 
reflect  that  although  observances  may  seem  offensive  and 
stories  told  about  the  gods  may  seem  incredible  ;  yet  as  a 
rule  of  action  a  system  which  has  been  the  growth  of  ages 
is  infinitely  more  precious  than  any  theory  which  he  could 
think  out  for  himself.  He  will  know  that  his  own  mind, 
that  the  mind  of  any  single  individual,  is  unequal  to  so  vast 
a  matter,  that  it  is  of  such  immeasurable  consequence  to 
him  to  have  his  conduct  wisely  directed  that,  although  the 


172  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

body  of  his  religion  be  mortal  like  his  own,  he  must  not 
allow  it  to  be  rudely  meddled  with.  He  may  think  as  he 
likes  about  the  legends  of  Zeus  and  Here,  but  he  must 
keep  his  thoughts  to  himself :  a  man  who  brings  into  con- 
tempt the  creed  of  his  country  is  the  deepest  of  criminals  ; 
he  deserves  death  and  nothing  less.  Qavara  fyfjaovo-Oa), 
'  Let  him  die  for  it ' — a  remarkable  expression  to  have  been 
used  by  the  wisest  and  gentlest  of  human  lawgivers. 

Disraeli's  opinions  on  these  subjects  were  perhaps  the 
same  as  Plato's.  He  too  may  have  had  his  uncertainties 
about  Zeus  and  Here,  and  yet  have  had  no  uncertainty  at 
all  about  the  general  truth  of  the  teaching  of  the  Church 
of  England,  while  as  a  statesman  he  was  absolutely  con- 
vinced of  the  necessity  of  supporting  and  defending  it, 
defending  it  alike  from  open  enemies  and  from  the  foolish 
ecclesiastical  revivalism  into  which  Tractarianism  had  de- 
generated. The  strength  of  the  Church  lay  in  its  hold 
upon  the  habits  of  the  people,  and  whoever  was  breaking 
through  the  usages  which  time  had  made  familiar  and 
consecrated  was  equally  dangerous  and  mischievous.  The 
critics  were  bringing  in  reason  to  decide  questions  which 
belonged  to  conscience  and  imagination.  The  ritualists 
were  bringing  back  pagan  superstition  in  a  pseudo-Chris- 
tian dress.  He  despised  the  first.  He  did  what  he  could 
to  restrain  the  second  with  a  Public  Worship  Bill  as  soon 
as  he  had  power  to  interfere.  Late  in  his  career,  when  he 
was  within  view  of  the  Premiership,  he  used  an  opportunity 
of  expressing  his  feeling  on  the  subject  in  his  own  charac- 
teristic manner. 

Oxford  having  produced  the  High  Churchmen,  was 
now  generating  rationalists  and  philosophers.  Intellectual 
society   was   divided   into   the    followers   of    Strauss    and 


A   SCENE   AT   OXFORD  I 73 

Darwin  and  those  who  believed  that  the  only  alternative 
was  the  '  Summa  Theologian'  Both  streams  were  concen- 
trated in  support  of  the  Liberal  leader,  who  was  Disraeli's 
political  antagonist  ;  one  because  he  represented  progress, 
the  other  because  in  matters  spiritual  he  was  supposed  to 
hold  the  most  advanced  Catholic  doctrines.  In  the  year 
1864  Disraeli  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  at  Cuddesdon, 
and  it  happened  equally  that  a  diocesan  conference  was  to 
be  held  at  Oxford  at  the  time,  with  Bishop  Wilberforce  in 
the  chair.  The  spiritual  atmosphere  was,  as  usual,  disturbed. 
The  clerical  mind  had  been  doubly  exercised  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Colenso  on  the  '  Pentateuch '  and  Darwin  on  the 
'  Origin  of  Species.'  Disraeli,  to  the  surprise  of  everyone, 
presented  himself  in  the  theatre.  He  had  long  abandoned 
the  satins  and  silks  of  his  youth,  but  he  was  as  careful  of 
effect  as  he  had  ever  been,  and  had  prepared  himself  in 
a  costume  elaborately  negligent.  He  lounged  into  the 
assembly  in  a  black  velvet  shooting-coat  and  a  wide-awake 
hat,  as  if  he  had  been  accidentally  passing  through  the 
town.  It  was  the  fashion  with  University  intellect  to  despise 
Disraeli  as  a  man  with  neither  sweetness  nor  light ;  but  he 
was  famous,  or  at  least  notorious,  and  when  he  rose  to 
speak  there  was  general  curiosity.  He  began  in  his  usual 
affected  manner,  slowly  and  rather  pompously,  as  if  he  had 
nothing  to  say  beyond  perfunctory  platitudes. 

The  Oxford  wits  began  to  compare  themselves  favourably 
with  the  dulness  of  Parliamentary  orators,  when  first  one 
sentence  and  then  another  startled  them  into  attention. 
They  were  told  that  the  Church  was  not  likely  to  be  dis- 
established. It  would  remain,  but  would  remain  subject 
to  a  Parliament  which  would  not  allow  an  imperium  in 
imperio.     It  must  exert  itself  and  reassert  its  authority,  but 


174  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

within  the  limits  which  the  law  laid  down.  The  interest 
grew  deeper  when  he  came  to  touch  on  the  parties  to  one 
or  other  of  which  all  his  listeners  belonged.  High  Church 
and  Low  Church  were  historical  and  intelligible,  but  there 
had  arisen  lately,  the  speaker  said,  a  party  called  the  Broad, 
never  before  heard  of.  He  went  on  to  explain  what  Broad 
Churchmen  were. 

It  would  not  be  wise  to  treat  the  existence  and  influence  of  this 
new  party  with  contempt.  .  .  .  It  is  founded  on  the  principle  of 
criticism.  Now  doubt  is  an  element  of  criticism,  and  the  tendency 
of  criticism  is  necessarily  sceptical.  It  is  quite  possible  that  such 
a  party  may  arrive  at  conclusions  which  we  may  deem  monstrous. 
They  may  reject  inspiration  as  a  principle  and  miracles  as  a 
practice.  That  is  possible  :  and  I  think  it  quite  logical  that 
having  arrived  at  such  conclusions  they  should  repudiate  creeds 
and  reject  articles  of  faith,  because  creeds  and  articles  of  faith 
cannot  exist  or  be  sustained  without  acknowledging  the  principle 
of  inspiration  and  the  practice  of  miracles.  All  that  I  admit. 
But  what  I  do  not  understand,  and  what  I  wish  to  draw  the 
attention  of  this  assembly  and  of  this  country  generally  to,  is 
this  :  that,  having  arrived  at  these  conclusions,  having  arrived 
conscientiously  at  the  result  that  with  their  opinions  they  must 
repudiate  creeds  and  reject  articles,  they  should  not  carry  their 
principles  to  their  legitimate  end,  but  are  still  sworn  supporters 
of  ecclesiastical  establishments,  fervent  upholders  of  or  digni- 
taries of  the  Church.  ...  If  it  be  true,  as  I  am  often  told  it  is, 
that  the  age  of  faith  has  passed,  then  the  fact  of  having  an  opulent 
hierarchy,  supported  by  men  of  high  cultivation,  brilliant  talents 
and  eloquence,  and  perhaps  some  ambition,  with  no  distinctive 
opinions,  might  be  a  very  harmless  state  of  affairs,  and  it  would 
certainly  not  be  a  very  permanent  one.  But,  my  Lord,  instead 
of  believing  that  the  age  of  faith  has  passed  when  I  observe 
what  is  passing  round  us,  what  is  taking  place  in  this  country, 
and  not  only  in  this  country,  but  in  other  countries  and  other 
hemispheres,  instead  of  believing  that  the  age  of  faith  has  passed 
I  hold  that  the  characteristic  of  the  present  age  is  a  craving 


A  SCENE   AT   OXFORD  1/5 

credulity.  My  Lord,  man  is  a  being  born  to  believe,  and  if  no 
Church  comes  forward  with  its  title-deeds  of  truth  sustained  by 
the  traditions  of  sacred  ages,  and  by  the  convictions  of  countless 
generations  to  guide  him,  he  will  find  altars  and  idols  in  his  own 
heart,  in  his  own  imagination.  And  what  must  be  the  relations 
of  a  powerful  Church  without  distinctive  creeds  with  a  being  ot 
such  a  nature?  Before  long  we  shall  be  living  in  a  flitting 
scene  of  spiritual  phantasmagoria.  There  are  no  tenets,  how- 
ever extravagant,  and  no  practices,  however  objectionable,  which 
will  not  in  time  develop  under  such  a  state  of  affairs,  opinions 
the  most  absurd  and  ceremonies  the  most  revolting.  .  .  . 

Consider  the  country  in  which  all  this  may  take  place. 
Dangerous  in  all  countries,  it  would  be  yet  more  dangerous  in 
England.  Our  empire  is  now  unrivalled  for  its  extent  ;  but  the 
base,  the  material  base  of  that  empire  is  by  no  means  equal  to 
the  colossal  superstructure.  It  is  not  our  iron  ships,  it  is  not 
our  celebrated  regiments,  it  is  not  these  things  which  have 
created  or  indeed  really  maintain  an  empire.  It  is  the 
character  of  the  people.  I  want  to  know  where  that  famous 
character  of  the  English  people  will  be  if  they  are  to  be  in- 
fluenced and  guided  by  a  Church  of  immense  talent,  opulence, 
and  power  without  any  distinctive  creed.  You  have  in  this 
country  accumulated  wealth  that  has  never  been  equalled,  and 
probably  it  will  still  increase.  You  have  a  luxury  that  will  some 
day  peradventure  rival  even  your  wealth  ;  and  the  union  of 
such  circumstances  with  a  Church  without  a  distinctive  creed  will 
lead,  I  believe,  to  a  dissolution  of  manners  and  morals,  which 
prepares  the  tomb  of  empires. 

The  opinions  of  the  new  school  are  paralysing  the  efforts  of 
many  who  ought  to  be  our  friends.  Will  these  opinions  succeed  ? 
My  conviction  is  that  they  will  fail.  .  .  .  Having  examined  all 
their  writings,  I  believe  without  exception,  whether  they  consist 
of  fascinating  eloquence,  diversified  learning,  or  picturesque 
sensibility  exercised  by  our  honoured  in  this  University  [Dean 
Stanley],  and  whom  to  know  is  to  admire  and  regard  ;  or 
whether  you  find  them  in  the  cruder  conclusions  of  prelates  who 
appear  to  have  commenced  their  theological  studies  after  they 
have  grasped  the  crozier  [Bishop  ColensoJ ;  or  whether  I  read 


176  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

the  lucubrations  of  nebulous  professors  [Frederick  Maurice]  who, 
if  they  could  persuade  the  public  to  read  their  writings,  would 
go  far  to  realise  that  eternal  punishment  which  they  deny  ;  or, 
lastly,  whether  it  be  the  provincial  arrogance  and  precipitate 
self-complacency  which  flash  and  flare  in  an  essay  or  review — I 
find  the  common  characteristic  of  their  writings  is  this  :  that 
their  learning  is  always  second-hand.  .  .  .  When  I  examine  the 
writings  of  their  masters,  the  great  scholars  of  Germany,  I  find 
that  in  their  labours  [also]  there  is  nothing  new.  All  that  inexor- 
able logic,  irresistible  rhetoric,  bewildering  wit  could  avail  to 
popularise  these  views  was  set  in  motion  to  impress  the  new 
learning  on  the  minds  of  the  two  leading  nations  of  Europe  [by 
the  English  and  French  deistical  writers  of  the  last  century],  and 
they  produced  their  effect  [in  the  French  Revolution].  When 
the  turbulence  was  over,  when  the  waters  had  subsided,  the 
sacred  heights  of  Sinai  and  of  Calvary  were  again  revealed,  and 
amidst  the  wreck  of  thrones,  extinct  nations,  and  abolished  laws 
mankind,  tried  by  so  many  sorrows,  purified  by  so  much  suffer- 
ing, and  wise  with  such  unprecedented  experience,  bowed  again 
before  the  Divine  truths  that  Omnipotence  had  entrusted  to  the 
custody  and  promulgation  of  a  chosen  people.  .  .  . 

The  discoveries  of  science  are  not,  we  are  told,  consistent 
with  the  teachings  of  the  Church.  .  .  .  It  is  of  great  importance 
when  this  tattle  about  science  is  mentioned  that  we  should 
attach  to  the  phrase  precise  ideas.  The  function  of  science  is 
the  interpretation  of  nature,  and  the  interpretation  of  the 
highest  nature  is  the  highest  science.  What  is  the  highest 
nature  ?  Man  is  the  highest  nature.  But  I  must  say  that 
when  I  compare  the  interpretation  of  the  highest  nature 
by  the  most  advanced,  the  most  fashionable  school  of  modern 
science  with  some  other  teaching  with  which  we  are  familiar, 
I  am  not  prepared  to  admit  that  the  lecture-room  is  more 
scientific  than  the  Church.  What  is  the  question  now  placed 
before  society  with  a  glib  assurance  the  most  astounding  ?  The 
question  is  this  :  Is  man  an  ape  or  an  angel?  I,  my  Lord,  I 
am  on  the  side  of  the  angels.  I  repudiate  with  indignation  and 
abhorrence  the  contrary  view,  which  I  believe  foreign  to  the 
conscience  of  humanity.     More  than  that,  from  the  intellectual 


OX    THE    SIDE   OF   THE   ANGELS  \J7 

point  of  view  the  severest  metaphysical  analysis  is  opposed  to 
such  a  conclusion.  .  .  .  What  does  the  Church  teach  us  ?  That 
man  is  made  in  the  image  of  his  Maker.  Between  these  two 
contending  interpretations  of  the  nature  of  man  and  their  con- 
sequences society  will  have  to  decide.  This  rivalry  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  human  affairs.  Upon  an  acceptance  of  that 
Divine  interpretation  for  which  we  are  indebted  to  the  Church, 
and  of  which  the  Church  is  the  guardian,  all  sound  and  salutary 
legislation  depends.  That  truth  is  the  only  security  for  civilisa- 
tion and  the  only  guarantee  of  real  progress. 

Mr.  Disraeli  is  on  the  side  of  the  angels.  Pit  and  gallery 
echoed  with  laughter.  Fellows  and  tutors  repeated  the 
phrase  over  their  port  in  the  common  room  with  shaking 
sides.  The  newspapers  carried  the  announcement  the  next 
morning  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  island,  and  the 
leading  article  writers  struggled  in  their  comments  to  main- 
tain a  decent  gravity.  Did  Disraeli  mean  it,  or  was  it  but 
an  idle  jest  ?  and  what  must  a  man  be  who  could  exercise 
his  wit  on  such  a  subject  ?  Disraeli  was  at  least  as  much 
in  earnest  as  his  audience. 

The  phrase  answered  its  purpose.  It  has  lived  and 
become  historical  when  the  decorous  protests  of  pro- 
fessional divines  have  been  forgotten  with  the  breath  which 
uttered  them.  The  note  of  scorn  with  which  it  rings  has 
preserved  it  better  than  any  affectation  of  pious  horror, 
which  indeed  would  have  been  out  of  place  in  the  presence 
of  such  an  assembly. 


N 


178  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   XII 

Indifference  to  money — Death  of  Isaac  Disraeli — Purchase  of  Hughen- 
den — Mrs.  Brydges  Willyaras  of  Torquay — An  assignation  with 
unexpected  results — Intimate  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Willyams 
— Correspondence — Views  on  many  subjects — The  Crown  of  Greece 
— Louis  Napoleon  — Spanish  pedigree  of  Mrs.  Willyams. 

'  Adventures  are  to  the  adventurous  : '  so  Ixion  had  written 
in  Athene's  album.  Nothing  is  more  commonplace  than 
an  ordinary  Parliamentary  career.  Disraeli's  life  was  a 
romance.  Starting  with  the  least  promising  beginning,  with 
a  self-confidence  which  seemed  like  madness  to  everyone 
but  himself,  his  origin  a  reproach  to  him  and  his  inherited 
connections  the  least  able  to  help  him  forward  on  the  course 
which  he  had  chosen,  he  had  become,  at  a  comparatively 
early  age,  by  the  mere  force  of  his  personal  genius,  the 
political  chief  of  the  proudest  aristocracy  in  the  world. 
His  marriage  had  given  him  independence  for  the  time, 
but  his  wife's  income  depended  on  her  life,  and  a  large  part 
of  it  had  long  to  be  expended  in  paying  the  interest  of  his 
debts.  Like  his  own  Endymion  he  had  no  root  in  the 
country.  The  talents  which  he  had  displayed  in  Parliament 
would  have  given  him  wealth  in  any  other  profession.  But 
he  had  neglected  fortune  for  fame  and  power,  and  was  not 
clear  of  his  early  embarrassments  even  when  first  Chancellor 
of  the  Exchequer.  Being  the  leader  of  the  country  gentle- 
men he  aspired  to  be  a  country  gentleman  himself,  to  be  a 


PURCHASE  OF  HUGHENDEN  179 

magistrate,  to  sit  in  top  boots  at  quarter  sessions  and  manage 
local  business.  Part  of  his  ambition  he  attained.  In  1847 
he  became  member  for  his  own  county,  and  was  so  popular 
that  he  kept  his  seat  without  a  contest  as  long  as  he 
remained  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  but  for  several  years 
after  he  represented  Buckinghamshire  his  connection  with 
the  soil  was  no  more  than  nominal.  Fortune,  however,  was 
again  to  stand  his  friend  in  a  strange  manner.  He  received 
a  large  sum  from  a  private  hand  for  his  '  Life  of  Lord  George 
Bentinck,'  while  a  wealthy  Conservative  millionaire  took 
upon  himself  in  addition  the  debts  to  the  usurers,  the  three 
per  cent,  with  which  he  was  content  being  exchanged  for  the 
ten  per  cent,  under  which  Disraeli  had  so  long  been  staggering. 
Isaac  Disraeli  lived  long  enough  to  see  his  son  realise  the 
dreams  which  he  had  himself  long  regarded  with  indifference 
or  provocation.  Dying  in  1 848,  he  left  the  remainder  of  the 
family  fortune  to  be  divided  among  his  children.  Benjamin 
Disraeli  discharged  his  last  filial  duties  in  re-editing  his 
father's  works  and  prefixing  to  them  an  interesting  biography 
of  him.  The  portion  which  came  to  him  was  not  con- 
siderable, but  it  was  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  purchase 
the  manor  of  Hughenden,  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  Bradenham,  and  Mrs.  Disraeli  raised  in  the  park  a 
handsome  monument  to  the  old  man,  as  if  to  fasten  the 
name  and  fame  of  the  Disraelis  upon  the  ground.  Neither, 
however,  would  the  estate  have  been  bought  or  the  monu- 
ment erected  upon  it  but  for  another  singular  accident,  as 
romantic  as  the  rest  of  his  history. 

At  Mount  Braddon,  at  Torquay,  there  resided  an  elderly 
widowed  lady  named  Mrs.  Brydges  Willyams.  She  was  of 
Jewish  birth,  daughter  and  heiress  of  a  certain  Mendez  da 
Costa,  who  traced  his  origin,  like  Disraeli,  to  a  great  family 

n  2 


l80  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

in  Spain.  Her  husband,  one  of  the  Willyamses  Of  Cornwall, 
who  was  a  man  of  some  note  there,  had  died  in  1820.  His 
wife  was  left  without  children ;  she  had  no  near  relations, 
and  with  a  large  fortune  at  her  own  disposal.  She  was 
reputed,  because  perhaps  she  lived  much  in  retirement,  to 
be  of  eccentric  habits.  Being  vain  of  her  race,  she  was 
attracted  by  Disraeli's  career,  and  she  was  interested  in  his 
writings.  A  Spanish  Jewish  origin  was  common  to  herself 
and  to  him,  and  some  remote  connection  could,  I  have 
heard,  be  traced  between  the  House  of  Lara,  from  which 
Disraeli  descended,  and  her  own,  Mendez  da  Costa.  At 
last,  at  the  beginning  of  1851,  she  wrote  to  him,  professing 
general  admiration  and  asking  for  his  advice  on  some 
matter  of  business. 

Men  whose  names  are  before  the  world  often  receive 
letters  of  this  kind  from  unknown  correspondents.  Disraeli 
knew  nothing  of  Mrs.  Willyams,  and  had  no  friends  at 
Torquay  whom  he  could  ask  about  her.  He  threw  the 
letter  in  the  fire  and  thought  no  more  of  it.  The  lady 
persevered.  Disraeli  happened  about  the  same  time  to  be 
on  a  visit  to  Monckton  Milnes  at  Frystone  ;  one  of  the  party 
was  a  Devonshire  man,  and  Disraeli  asked  him  if  he  knew 
anything  of  a  mad  woman  living  in  Torquay  named  Willyams. 
The  gentleman,  though  not  personally  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Willyams,  was  able  to  assure  him  that,  though  eccentric, 
she  certainly  was  not  mad.  The  lady,  when  the  first  Great 
Exhibition  was  opened,  wrote  again,  pressing  for  an  inter- 
view, and  appointing  as  a  place  of  meeting  the  fountain  in 
the  Exhibition  building.  The  Disraeli  of  practical  life  was 
as  unlike  as  possible  to  the  heroes  of  his  own  novels.  His 
mysterious  correspondent  might  be  young  and  beautiful  or  old 
and  ugly.    In  either  case  the  proposal  could  have  no  attrac- 


A   ROMANTIC   ADVENTURE  iSl 

tion  for  him.    His  person  was  well  known,  and  an  assignation 
at  so  public  a  place  could  not  pass  unnoticed.     In  his  most 
foolish  years  he  had  kept  clear  of  entanglements  with  women, 
and  did  not  mean  to  begin.     He  was  out  of  town  when  the 
letter  arrived.     He  found  it  when  he  returned,  but  again  left 
it  unnoticed.     A  third  time,  however,  the  lady  wrote,  and  in 
more  pressing  terms  appointed  another  hour  at  the  same 
place.      The   perseverance   struck   him   as   singular.      He 
showed  the  note  to  two  intimate  friends,  who  both  advised 
him  not  to  neglect  a  request  which  might  have  meaning  in 
it.     He  went.     By  the  side  of  the  fountain  he  found  sitting 
an  old  woman,  very  small  in  person,  strangely  dressed,  and 
peculiar  in  manner;  such  a  figure  as  might  be  drawn  in  an 
illustrated  story  for  a  fairy  godmother.    She  told  him  a  long 
story  of  which  he  could  make  nothing.    Seeing  that  he  was 
impatient  she  placed  an  envelope  in  his  hands,  which,  she 
said,  contained  the  statement  of  a  case  on  which  she  desired 
a  high  legal  opinion.     She  begged  him  to  examine  it  at  his 
leisure.     He  thrust  the  envelope  carelessly  in  his  pocket, 
and  supposing  that  she  was  not  in   her  right  mind  thought 
no  more  about  the  matter.     The  coat  which  he  was  wearing 
was  laid  aside,  and  weeks  passed  before  he  happened  to 
put  it  on  again.     When  lie  did  put  it  on  the  packet  was 
still  where  it  had  been  left.     He  tore  it  open,  and  found 
a  bank  note  for  a  thousand  pounds  as  a  humble  contribution 
to  his  election  expenses,  with  the  case  for  the  lawyers,  which 
was  less  absurd  than  he  had  expected.     This  was,  of  course, 
submitted  to  a  superior  counsel,  whose  advice  was  sent  at 
once  to  Torquay  with  acknowledgments  and  apologies  for 
the  delay.     I   do  not  know  what  became  of  the  thousand 
pounds.      It    was    probably  returned.       But   this  was    the 
beginning  of  an  acquaintance  which  ripened  into  a  close 


1 82  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

and  affectionate  friendship.  The  Disraelis  visited  Mount 
Braddon  at  the  close  of  the  London  season  year  after  year. 
The  old  lady  was  keen,  clever,  and  devoted.  A  corre- 
spondence began,  which  grew  more  and  more  intimate  till 
at  last  Disraeli  communicated  freely  to  her  the  best  of  his 
thoughts  and  feelings.  Presents  were  exchanged  weekly. 
Disraeli's  writing-table  was  adorned  regularly  with  roses 
from  Torquay,  and  his  dinners  enriched  with  soles  and 
turbot  from  the  Brixham  trawlers.  He  in  turn  provided 
Mrs.  Willyams  with  trout  and  partridges  from  Hughenden, 
and  passed  on  to  her  the  venison  and  the  grouse  which  his 
friends  sent  him  from  the  Highlands.  The  letters  which 
they  exchanged  have  been  happily  preserved  on  both  sides. 
Disraeli  wrote  himself  when  he  had  leisure ;  when  he  had 
none  Mrs.  Disraeli  wrote  instead  of  him.  The  curious 
and  delicate  idyl  was  prolonged  for  twelve  years,  at  the 
end  of  which  Mrs.  Willyams  died,  bequeathing  to  him  her 
whole  fortune,  and  expressing  a  wish,  which  of  course  was 
complied  with,  that  she  might  be  buried  at  Hughenden, 
near  the  spot  where  Disraeli  was  himself  to  lie.  The  cor- 
respondence may  hereafter  be  published,  when  a  fit  time 
arrives,  with  the  more  secret  papers  which  have  been 
bequeathed  to  the  charge  of  the  executors.  I  have  been 
permitted  a  hasty  perusal  of  these  letters.  Disraeli  tells 
Mrs.  Willyams  of  his  work  in  Parliament,  of  the  great 
people  that  he  falls  in  with,  of  pomps  and  ceremonies, 
grand  entertainments,  palaces  of  peers  and  princes,  such 
things  as  all  women,  old  or  young,  delight  to  hear  of. 
More  charming  are  pictures  of  his  life  at  Hughenden,  his 
chalk  stream  and  his  fish,  his  swans  and  his  owls,  and  his 
garden,  which  he  had  made  a  Paradise  of  birds.  Now  and 
then  his  inner  emotions  break  out  with  vehemence.     The 


CORRESPONDENCE   WITH   MRS.    WILLYAMS     1 83 

Indian  Mutiny  and  the  passions  called  out  by  it  shocked  him 
into  indignation  ;  although  in  his  allusions  to  persons  with 
whom  he  was  either  in  contact  or  in  collision  there  is  not 
a  single  malicious  expression.  A  few  extracts  follow, 
gathered  at  random. 

'  What  wondrous  times  are  these,'  he  writes  in  1861. 
'  Who  could  have  supposed  that  the  United  States  of  America 
would  have  been  the  scene  of  a  mighty  revolution  ?  No  one 
can  foresee  its  results.  They  must,  however,  tell  immensely 
in  favour  of  an  aristocracy.' 

In  1862  came  the  second  exhibition  at  South  Kensing- 
ton. 

'  This,'  he  wrote,  '  is  not  so  fascinating  a  one  as  that  you 
remember  when  you  made  me  an  assignation  by  the 
crystal  fountain,  which  I  was  ungallant  enough  not  to 
keep,  being  far  away  when  it  arrived  at  Grosvenor  Gate. 
But  though  not  so  charming  it  is  even  more  wonderful. 
One  was  a  woman— this  is  a  man.' 

In  the  session  of  the  same  year  he  had  been  overworked, 
and  Mrs.  Willyams  had  prescribed  for  him. 

Hughenden:  September  2,  1862. — 'I  am  quite  myself 
again  ;  and  as  I  have  been  drinking  your  magic  beverage 
for  a  week,  and  intend  to  pursue  it,  you  may  fairly  claim  all 
the  glory  of  my  recovery,  as  a  fairy  cures  a  knight  after  a 
tournament  or  a  battle.  I  have  a  great  weakness  for 
mutton  broth,  especially  with  that  magical  sprinkle  which 
you  did  not  forget.  I  shall  call  you  in  future  after  an  old 
legend  and  a  modern  poem  "  the  Lady  of  Shalot."  I  think 
the  water  of  which  it  was  made  would  have  satisfied  even 
you,  for  it  was  taken  every  day  from  our  stream,  which  rises 
among  the  chalk  hills,  glitters  in  the  sun  over  a  very  pretty 
cascade,  then    spreads   and    sparkles   into  a  little   lake  in 


1 84  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

which  is  a  natural  island.  Since  I  wrote  to  you  last  we  have 
launched  in  the  lake  two  most  beautiful  cygnets,  to  whom 
we  have  given  the  names  of  Hero  and  Leander.  They  are 
a  source  to  us  of  unceasing  interest  and  amusement.  They 
are  very  handsome  and  very  large,  but  as  yet  dove-coloured. 
I  can  no  longer  write  to  you  of  Cabinet  Councils  or 
Parliamentary  struggles.  Here  I  see  nothing  but  trees 
or  books,  so  you  must  not  despise  the  news  of  my 
swans.' 

Here  follows  an  historical  incident  not  generally  known  : — 

December  9,  1862. — 'They  say  the  Greeks,  resolved  to 
have  an  English  king,  in  consequence  of  the  refusal  of 
Prince  Alfred  to  be  their  monarch,  intend  to  elect  Lord 
Stanley.  If  he  accepts  the  charge  I  shall  lose  a  powerful 
friend  and  colleague.  It  is  a  dazzling  adventure  for  the 
House  of  Stanley,  but  they  are  not  an  imaginative  race,  and 
I  fancy  they  will  prefer  Knowsley  to  the  Parthenon,  and 
Lancashire  to  the  Attic  plains.  It  is  a  privilege  to  live  in 
this  age  of  rapid  and  brilliant  events.  What  an  error  to 
consider  it  a  utilitarian  age.  It  is  one  of  infinite  romance. 
Thrones  tumble  down,  and  crowns  are  offered  like  a  fairy 
tale  ;  and  the  most  powerful  people  in  the  world,  male  and 
female,  a  few  years  back  were  adventurers,  exiles,  and 
demireps.      Vive  la  bagatelle !     Adieu.  D.' 

February  7,  1863. — '  The  Greeks  really  want  to  make  my 
friend  Lord  Stanley  their  king.  This  beats  any  novel.  I 
think  he  ought  to  take  the  crown  ;  but  he  will  not.  Had  I 
his  youth  I  would  not  hesitate  even  with  the  earldom  of 
Derby  in  the  distance.' 

March  21,  1863. — 'The  wedding  [of  the  Prince  of  Wales] 
was  a  fine  affair,  a  thing  to  remember.  After  the  ceremony 
there  was  a  splendid  dejeuner  at  Windsor.     The  Queen  was 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH   MRS.   WILLYAMS      1S5 

very  anxious  that  an  old  shoe  should  be  thrown  at  the  royal 
pair  on  their  departure,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain  showed 
me  in  confidence  the  weapon  with  which  he  had  furnished 
himself.  He  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  beautiful  white  satin 
slipper  which  had  been  given  him  for  the  occasion  by  the 
Duchess  of  Brabant.  Alas  !  when  the  hour  arrived  his 
courage  failed  him.  This  is  a  genuine  anecdote  which  you 
will  not  find  in  the  "  Illustrated  London  News." 

In  1863  Poland  revolted,  encouraged  by  the  results  of 
the  Crimean  war,  which  had  enfeebled  Russia,  by  the  French 
campaign  for  the  liberation  of  Italy,  and  by  the  supposed 
sympathy  of  England  with  oppressed  nationalities.  Louis 
Napoleon  knew  that  his  own  throne  was  undermined,  and 
was  looking  for  safety  in  some  fresh  successful  adventure. 
England  had  refused  to  join  him  in  the  recognition  of 
Southern  independence  in  America.  Poland  was  another 
opportunity.  The  two  extracts  which  follow  deserve  par- 
ticular attention.  Disraeli  had  known  the  French  Emperor 
in  London  and  did  not  trust  him. 

October  17,  1863. — 'The  troubles  and  designs  of  the 
French  Emperor  are  aggravated  and  disturbed  by  the  death 
of  Billault,  his  only  Parliamentary  orator  and  a  first-rate  one. 
With,  for  the  first  time,  a  real  Opposition  to  encounter,  and 
formed  of  the  old  trained  speakers  of  Louis  Philippe's  reign, 
in  addition  to  the  young  democracy  of  oratory  which  the 
last  revolution  has  itself  produced,  the  inconveniences,  per- 
haps the  injuries,  of  this  untimely  decease  are  incalculable. 
It  may  even  force  by  way  of  distraction  the  Emperor  into 
war.  Our  own  Ministry  have  managed  their  affairs  very 
badly,  according  to  their  friends.  The  Polish  question  is  a 
diplomatic  Frankenstein,  created  out  of  cadaverous  remnants 
by  the  mystic  blundering  of  Lord  Russell.      At  present  the 


1 86  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

peace  of  the  world  has  been  preserved  not  by  statesmen, 
but  by  capitalists.  For  the  last  three  months  it  has  been 
a  struggle  between  the  secret  societies  and  the  Emperor's 
millionaires.  Rothschild  hitherto  has  won,  but  the  death 
of  Billault  may  be  as  fatal  to  him  as  the  poignard  of  a 
Polish  patriot,  for  I  believe  in  that  part  of  the  world  they 
are  called  "patriots,"  though  in  Naples  only  "  brigands.'" 

November  5,  1863. — 'The  great  Imperial  sphinx  is  at 
this  moment  speaking.  I  shall  not  know  the  mysterious 
utterances  until  to-morrow,  and  shall  judge  of  his  conduct  as 
much  by  his  silence  as  by  his  words.  The  world  is  very 
alarmed  and  very  restless.  Although  England  appears  to 
have  backed  out  of  this  possible  war  there  are  fears  that  the 
French  ruler  has  outwitted  us,  and  that  by  an  alliance  with 
Austria  and  the  aid  of  the  Italian  armies  he  may  cure  the 
partition  of  Poland  by  a  partition  of  Prussia  ;  Austria  in 
that  case  to  regain  Silesia,  which  Frederick  the  Great  won  a 
century  ago  from  Maria  Theresa,  France  to  have  the  Rhine, 
and  Galicia  and  Posen  to  be  restored  to  Poland.  If  this 
happens  it  will  give  altogether  a  new  form  and  colour  to 
European  politics.  The  Queen  is  much  alarmed  for  the 
future  throne  of  her  daughter  ;  but  as  the  war  will  be  waged 
for  the  relief  of  Poland,  of  which  England  has  unwisely 
approved,  and  to  which  in  theory  she  is  pledged,  we  shall 
really  be  checkmated  and  scarcely  could  find  an  excuse  to 
interfere  even  if  the  nation  wished.' 

Disraeli's  arms  and  motto  have  been  a  subject  of  some 
speculation.  The  motto,  '  Forti  nihil  difficile,'  has  been 
supposed  to  have  been  originated  by  himself,  as  an  expres- 
sion of  his  personal  experience.  The  vanity,  if  vanity  there 
was  in  the  assumption  of  such  a  bearing,  was  the  vanity  of 
ancestry,  not  the  vanity  of  a  self-made  man.     When  he  told 


SPANISH   QUARTERINGS  1 87 

the  electors  at  Aylesbury  that  his  descent  was  as  pure  as 
that  of  the  Cavendishes,  he  was  not  alluding  to  Abraham, 
but  to  his  Castilian  progenitors.  While  leading  the  aristo- 
cracy of  England  lie  claimed  a  place  among  them  in  right  of 
blood.  Mrs.  Willyams  descended  from  a  similar  stock. 
She  desired  to  quarter  her  coat  with  the  bearings  of  the 
Mendez  da  Costas,  and  Disraeli  undertook  to  manage  it  for 
her.  He  had  to  use  the  help  of  '  ambassadors  and  Ministers 
of  State.'  He  laid  under  contribution  the  private  cabinet  of 
the  Queen  of  Spain,  and  gave  himself  infinite  trouble  that 
the  poor  old  lady  might  have  the  panels  of  her  carriage 
painted  to  her  satisfaction.  Among  the  many  letters  on  the 
subject  there  is  one  which  explains  the  arms  of  Beaconsfield. 

July  23,  1859. — 'The  Spanish  families  never  had  sup- 
porters, crests,  or  mottoes.  The  tower  of  Castile,  which  I 
use  as  a  crest,  and  which  was  taken  from  one  of  the  quarters 
of  my  shield,  was  adopted  by  a  Lara  in  the  sixteenth  century 
in  Italy,  where  crests  were  the  custom — at  least  in  the  north 
of  Italy — copied  from  the  German  heraldry.  This  also 
applies  to  my  motto.  None  of  the  southern  races,  I  believe, 
have  supporters  or  crests.  This  is  Teutonic.  With  regard 
to  the  coronet,  in  old  days,  especially  in  the  south,  all 
coronets  were  the  same,  and  the  distinction  of  classes  from 
the  ducal  strawberry  leaf  to  the  baron's  balls  is  of  compara- 
tively modern  introduction.' 

When  the  harlequin's  wand  of  Pitt  converted  Warren,  the 
club  waiter,  into  an  earl,  the  Heralds'  College  traced  his 
descent  for  him  to  the  Norman  Fitzwarren.  Robert  Burns 
was  content  to  take  his  patent  of  nobility  from  a  more  im- 
mediate source.  Disraeli  doubtless  had  a  right  to  use  the 
bearings  of  the  Laras  if  he  cared  about  such  things.  But  a 
Spanish  pedigree  at  best  was  a  shadowy  sort  of  business,  and 
one  could  rather  wish  that  he  had  let  it  alone. 


1 88  LORD   EEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Fall  of  the  Whigs  in  1S67 — Disraeli  as  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer — 
Reform  Bill  why  undertaken— Necessities  real  or  fancied  of  a  Party 
Leader — Alternatives — Split  in  the  Cabinet— Disraeli  carries  his 
point— Niagara  to  be  shot — Retirement  of  Lord  Derby — Disraeli 
1'rime  Minister— Various  judgments  of  his  character — The  House  of 
Commons  responsible  for  his  elevation — Increasing  popularity  with 
all  classes. 

Something  else  too  as  well  as  the  Castilian  pedigree  Disraeli 
might  have  done  better  to  leave  to  others.  In  1865  he  had 
uttered  his  memorable  warning  in  the  House  of  Commons 
against  playing  tricks  with  the  Constitution.  Other  countries 
might  emerge  out  of  a  revolution  and  '  begin  again.'  Eng- 
land could  not  begin  again.  Lord  John  Russell's  Reform 
Bill  was  thrown  out.  The  Whig  Ministry  fell  in  1867,  and 
Lord  Derby  came  a  third  time  to  the  helm  with  Disraeli  for 
his  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  They  at  least,  it  might 
have  been  thought,  would  have  let  alone  a  subject  on  which 
the  latter  had  pronounced  so  recently  so  emphatic  an 
opinion.  But  they  were  still  a  Ministry  on  sufferance,  and 
how  to  turn  a  minority  into  a  majority  was  still  an  unsolved 
problem.  The  spectre  of  Reform  was  unexorcised.  Both 
parties  had  evoked  it  at  intervals,  when  they  wished  ulti- 
mately to  pose  before  the  world  as  the  people's  friends.  Yet 
no  experienced  statesman,  Whig  or  Tory,  unless  from  tin- 
worthy  jealousy,  would  have  opened  his  lips  to  recommend. 


NEW   REFORM    BILL  l£cy 

a  change  from  which  he  could  not  honestly  expect  improve- 
ment. Even  the  working  classes  themselves,  who  were  to 
be  admitted  to  the  suffrage,  were  not  actively  demanding  it. 
No  good  had  come  to  them  from  the  great  Bill  of  1S32. 
'  I  don't  care  who  is  in  or  who  is  out,'  said  a  rough 
artisan  to  me.  '  I  could  never  see  that  any  of  them  cared 
for  us.'  They  had  been  told  that  they  were  living  in  a 
world  where  everyone  was  to  look  out  for  himself,  that  their 
interests  would  never  be  attended  to  till  they  had  representa- 
tives who  would  force  attention  to  them.  But  their  general 
sense  was  that  the  ills  which  they  complained  of  were  out  of 
reach  of  Parliament,  and  they  were  looking  for  a  remedy  in 
combination  among  themselves  which  would  take  the  place 
of  the  old  Guilds.  The  ancient  organisation  of  labour  had 
been  destroyed  in  the  name  of  Liberty.  Their  employers 
had  piled  up  fortunes.  They  had  been  left  'free,'  as  it  was 
called,  with  their  families  to  multiply  as  they  would,  and  to 
gather  their  living  under  the  hoofs  of  the  horses  of  a  civilisa- 
tion which  had  become  an  aggregate  of  self-seeking  units. 
To  this  they  had  been  brought  by  a  Parliamentary  govern- 
ment, which,  as  far  as  they  were  concerned,  was  no  govern- 
ment at  all  ;  and  they  were  incredulous  of  any  benefit  that 
was  to  arrive  to  them  from  improvements  in  a  machine  so 
barren.  Thus  they  were  looking  rather  with  amused  indif- 
ference than  active  concern  while  the  parties  in  the  House 
of  Commons  were  fencing  for  the  honour  of  being  their 
champion. 

And  yet  Reform  was  in  the  air.  The  educated  mind  ot 
England  had  been  filled  to  saturation  with  the  new  Liberal 
philosophy.  In  the  old  days  a  'freeman'  was  a  master  of 
his  craft,  and  not  till  he  had  learnt  to  do,  and  do  well,  some 
work  which  was  useful  to  society  did  he  enter   upon  his 


190  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

privileges  as  a  citizen.  The  situation  was  now  reversed. 
To  be  'free'  was  to  have  a  voice  in  making  the  laws  of  the 
country.  Those  who  had  no  votes  were  still  in  bondage, 
and  bondage  was  a  moral  degradation.  Freedom  was  no 
longer  a  consequence  and  a  reward,  but  the  fountain  of 
all  virtue  ;  a  baptismal  sacrament  in  which  alone  human 
nature  could  be  regenerated.  In  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
there  were  some  thirty  millions  of  inhabitants.  Of  these,  under 
the  Reform  Bill  of  1832,  three  hundred  thousand  only  were 
in  possession  of  their  birthright.  What  claim,  it  was  asked, 
had  a  mere  fraction  to  monopolise  a  privilege  which  was  not 
only  a  power  in  the  State  but  the  indispensable  condition  of 
spiritual  growth  and  progress  ?  We  heard  much  about 
generous  confidence  in  the  people,  about  the  political  sta- 
bility to  be  expected  from  broadening  the  base  of  the 
pyramid,  about  the  elevating  consciousness  of  responsibility 
which  would  rise  out  of  the  possession  of  a  vote — beautiful 
visions  of  the  return  of  Astraea,  the  millennium  made  into 
a  fact  by  the  establishment  of  universal  liberty.  Of  all  this 
Disraeli  believed  nothing.  No  one  hated  empty  verbiage 
more  than  he.  His  dislike  of  cant  was  the  most  genuine 
part  of  him.  But  he  too  had  once  imagined  that  the  work- 
ing-men were  safer  depositaries  of  power  than  the  ten-pound 
householders  ;  and  even  old  Tories,  though  they  thought 
an  extension  of  the  franchise  foolish  and  needless,  did  not 
suppose  it  would  be  necessarily  dangerous  unless  accom- 
panied with  a  vast  redistribution  of  seats.  Thus,  although 
the  mass  of  the  existing  voters  were  content  with  their  privi- 
leges, and  were  not  eager  to  share  them,  the  House  of 
Commons  had  already  committed  itself  by  second  read- 
ings to  the  principle  of  Reform.  The  question  would 
return  upon  them  again  and  again  till  it  was  settled,  and  as 


NEW    REFORM    15ILL  1QI 

things  stood  cither  party  had  a  Parliamentary  right  to  deal 
with  it. 

What  were  Lord  Derby  and  Disraeli  to  do?  Accident 
had  brought  them  into  power,  and  accident  or  some  adverse 
resolution  of  the  House  might  at  any  time  displace  them. 
Experienced  Parliamentary  politicians  had  observed  that  the 
shake  of  the  Constitution  from  the  Act  of  1832  had  arisen 
more  from  the  manner  in  which  it  was  carried  than  from  the 
measure  in  itself.  A  second  Radical  Reform  Bill,  which 
might  be  passed  in  a  similar  manner,  was  evidently  imminent ; 
the  multitude,  who  were  so  far  quiet,  might  again  be  stirred ; 
and  if  once  the  classes  and  the  masses  were  pitted  against 
one  another  the  breaking  loose  of  a  torrent  might  sweep 
away  Church,  House  of  Lords,  landed  estates,  and  all  that 
was  left  of  the  old  institutions  of  England.  Such  were 
the  arguments  on  public  grounds  ;  to  which,  though  it  was 
unavowed,  might  be  added  the  pleasure  of  'dishing  the 
Whigs.' 

But  if  Disraeli  had  looked  back  upon  his  own  past 
career  he  might  have  remembered  to  have  once  said  that 
there  were  considerations  higher  than  any  of  these — that 
public  men  ought  to  be  true  to  their  real  convictions.  The 
Liberals  had  professed  to  believe  in  Reform.  The  Tories 
had  never  looked  on  it  as  more  than  an  unwelcome  and  a 
useless  necessity.  Lord  Derby  had  been  a  member  of  Lord 
Grey's  first  Reform  Cabinet.  Disraeli  in  his  enthusiastic 
youth  had  called  himself  a  Radical.  But  Lord  Derby  had 
been  cured  of  his  illusions  ;  and  Disraeli  had  learnt  the 
difference  between  realities  and  dreams.  They  might  think 
that  the  danger  of  concession  was  less  than  the  danger  of 
resistance,  but  that  was  all.  There  were  persons  credulous 
enough   to  hope   that  there  might  be  found   men  at  last 


I92  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

among  their  Parliamentary  leaders  who  would  adhere  in 
office  to  what  they  had  said  in  Opposition.  In  the  opinion 
of  the  Conservatives,  the  need  of  England  was  wise  govern- 
ment, not  political  revolution.  They  might  have  said  that 
if  the  experiment  of  I  )emocracy  was  to  be  tried  it  should 
be  tried  by  those  who  were  in  favour  of  the  change  on  their 
own  responsibility.  They  themselves  would  have  no  hand 
in  it.  They  might  be  turned  out  of  office,  but  the  country 
would  know  that  they  had  been  faithful  to  their  word, 
and  could  be  relied  upon  when  there  was  need  of  them 
again.  Tories  of  the  old  school  would  have  said  so  and 
dared  the  consequences,  which  might  not  have  been  very 
terrible  after  all,  and  Parliamentary  government  would 
have  escaped  the  contempt  into  which  it  is  now  so  rapidly 
falling. 

Unfortunately  political  leaders  have  ceased  to  think  of 
what  is  good  for  the  nation,  or  of  their  own  consistency,  or 
even  of  what  in  the  long  run  may  be  best  for  themselves. 
Their  business  is  the  immediate  campaign,  in  which  they  are 
to  outmanoeuvre  and  defeat  their  enemies.  On  this  condition 
only  they  can  keep  their  party  together.  The  Conservatives 
had  been  out  of  office,  with  but  short-lived  intervals,  for  thirty- 
five  years.  Peel's  Government  had  been,  as  Disraeli  said, 
not  Conservative  at  all,  but  an  organised  hypocrisy.  If 
they  were  to  regard  themselves  as  condemned  to  be  in  a 
perpetual  minority,  with  no  inducement  to  offer  to  tempt 
ability  or  ambition  into  their  ranks,  they  would  inevitably 
become  disheartened  and  indifferent.  The  Parliamentary 
Constitution  depended  on  the  continuance  of  two  parties, 
and  if  one  of  these  disappeared  the  constitution  would  itself 
cease  to  exist. 

Disraeli's  notion  that  the  aristocracy  were  to  recover  their 


THE    LEAF    IN    TlIE    1>ARK  193 

power  by  an  alteration  of  their  ways  had  proved  'a  devout  ima- 
gination.' The  ancient  organisation  was  visibly  crumbling, 
and  progress,  whether  it  was  upwards  or  downwards,  was  the 
rule  of  the  hour.  Lord  Derby  was  old  and  out  of  health, 
and  I  )israeli  himself  was  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  Cabinet. 
Though  born  an  Englishman,  and  proud  of  the  position  which 
he  had  won,  he  had  not  an  English  temperament,  and  he 
was  unembarrassed  by  English  prejudices.  He  surveyed  the 
situation  with  the  coolness  of  a  general  and  the  impartiality 
of  a  friend  who  had  no  personal  interests  at  stake.  He 
prided  himself  on  his  knowledge  of  the  English  character;  and 
to  some  extent  he  did  know  it,  though  he  mistook  the  surface 
for  the  substance.  He  believed — and  the  event  a  few  years 
later  seemed  to  show  that  he  was  right — in  the  essential 
Conservatism  of  the  great  mass  of  the  people,  and  he 
resolved  upon  a  '  leap  into  the  dark.'  He  regretted  the 
necessity.  He  did  not  hide  from  himself  that  he  too  was 
'  stealing  the  Whigs'  clothes  while  they  were  bathing.'  His- 
tory was  repeating  itself.  His  situation  too  much  resembled 
that  of  his  old  leader  whom  he  had  overthrown.  His  own 
language  could  be  retorted  upon  him,  and  the  more  violent 
he  had  been  at  Peel  the  more  severe  would  be  his  condem- 
nation. But  a  strategist  must  be  governed  by  circumstances, 
and  he  could  plead  that  the  position  was  not  entirely  the 
same.  Peel  had  been  pledged  to  Protection,  and  was  at  the 
head  of  an  unbroken  majority  returned  in  the  Protectionist 
interest.  In  going  over  to  Free  Trade  he  had  made  a  social 
revolution  and  destroyed  his  party.  Disraeli  could  say  that 
he  had  never  opposed  the  principle  of  an  extension  of  the 
suffrage,  that  he  had  more  than  once  openly  advocated  it. 
He  had  always  protested  against  the  assumption  that  the 
Liberals  had  a  monopoly  of  the  question. 

o 


194  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

All  agreed  that  reform  was  inevitable  ;  if  conducted  by 
the  Conservatives  with  a  drag  upon  the  wheel,  it  might  be 
harmless,  and  might  add  to  their  strength.  To  persuade 
himself  was  more  easy  than  to  convince  his  party.  Old- 
fashioned  Toryism  was  stubborn  and  distrustful— distrustful 
of  the  measure  in  itself,  and  distrustful  of  the  leader  whom, 
for  want  of  ability  in  themselves,  they  were  compelled  to 
follow.  He  found  it  necessary  to  'educate'  them,  as  he 
scornfully  said.  He  told  them  that  they  could  not  hold 
together  on  the  principle  of  mere  resistance  to  the  spirit  of 
the  age.  Change  was  the  order  of  the  day.  To  cease  to 
change  would  be  to  cease  to  live.  They  must  accept  the 
conditions.  Party  government  is  perhaps  an  accident  of  a 
peculiar  period.  To  divide  the  intellect  of  the  country  into 
hostile  camps,  each  struggling  to  outwit  or  outbid  the  other, 
is  not  a  promising,  and  may  not  be  a  permanent,  method  of 
conducting  the  affairs  of  a  great  country.  But  it  is  a  present 
fact,  theoretically  admired  and  practically  accepted  and 
acted  on,  and  while  it  continues,  the  opposing  chiefs  have  to 
disregard  the  reproaches  of  inconsistency.  They  have  to  do 
what  occasion  requires — attack,  defend,  snatch  advantages, 
and  improve  opportunities. 

In  earlier  years,  Disraeli,  by  speech  and  writing,  had 
tried  for  a  nobler  policy.  He  had  hoped  for  a  real  govern- 
ment again,  to  be  brought  about  by  an  aristocratic  regenera- 
tion. But  the  aristocracy  had  not  regenerated  themselves. 
The  American  war,  which  was  to  have  shown  the  superiority 
of  aristocracies  to  democratic  republics,  had  had  precisely 
the  opposite  effect.  He  was  carrying  on  the  administration 
with  a  minority.  His  business  now  as  a  general  was  to  go 
with  the  times,  and  if  possible  change  his  minority  into  a 
majority.     Tory  principles  were   dead.     His   best   chance 


'SHOOTING    NIAGARA'  195 

Was  in  the  daring  stroke,  on  which  Carlyle  so  scornfully 
commented,  and  in  throwing  himself  boldly  upon  the 
masses  of  the  people. 

All  admit  Disraeli's  dexterity  as  a  Parliamentary  com- 
mander. To  succeed,  he  knew  that  he  must  outbid  the 
highest  offers  of  his  opponents.  He  shook  his  Cabinet  in 
the  process.  Three  of  his  most  distinguished  supporters- 
Lord  Salisbury,  Lord  Carnarvon,  and  General  Peel — threw 
up  their  offices  and  left  him.  But  the  body  of  his  army 
consented  to  go  with  him.  He  could  be  confident  in  the 
general  support  of  the  Opposition.  Their  consent  could  not 
be  refused.  For  form's  sake,  and  to  satisfy  his  followers,  he 
introduced  a  few  limitations  of  which  he  must  have  fore- 
seen that  the  Liberals  would  demand  the  surrender,  and  to 
which  his  easy  sacrifice  of  them  showed  that  he  attached 
no  importance.  He  carried  a  bill  which  in  its  inevitable 
developments  must  give  the  franchise  to  every  householder 
in  the  United  Kingdom  ;  and  he  gained  for  his  party  the 
credit,  if  credit  it  was,  of  having  passed  a  more  completely 
democratic  measure  than  the  most  Radical  responsible 
statesman  had  as  yet  dared  to  propose.  The  reproaches 
which  were  heaped  upon  him  are  fresh  in  the  memories  of 
many  of  us.  Carlyle  roused  himself  out  of  the  sorrows  into 
which  he  had  been  plunged  by  his  wife's  death  to  write  his 
'Shooting  Niagara.'  In  Carlyle's  opinion,  the  English 
people  had  gone  down  the  cataract  at  last,  and  nothing  was 
left  to  them  but  to  continue  their  voyage  to  the  ocean  on 
such  shattered  fragments  of  their  old  greatness  as  they 
could  seize  and  cling  to.  A  quarter  of  a  century  has  gone 
by  and  the  Constitution  still  holds  together.  The  prophet 
of  Chelsea  may  yet  prove  to  have  been  clear-sighted. 
There  are  sounds  in  the  air  of  cracking  timbers,  and  signs 

o  2 


I96  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

of  rending  and  disruption.  But  a  powerfully  organised 
framework  does  not  break  with  a  single  shock,  and  Disraeli 
scored  a  victory.  Enemies  said  that  he  had  covered  him- 
self with  ignominy  ;  but  the  disgrace  sat  light  upon  him, 
and  by  his  manoeuvres  he  had  secured  for  his  party  at  least 
one  more  year  of  office.  Time  must  pass  before  the  newly 
enfranchised  voters  could  be  placed  upon  the  register.  If 
the  Liberals  forced  a  dissolution  before  the  process  was 
completed,  a  new  Parliament  would  have  to  be  chosen  by 
the  old  constituencies,  and  they  would  gain  nothing  even  if 
they  were  again  in  a  majority,  for  there  would  be  an  appeal 
to  the  fresh  electors,  whose  votes  no  one  could  count  upon. 
Two  general  elections  close  one  upon  another  would  be  so 
inconvenient  that  the  country  would  resent  it  upon  them. 
They  had  therefore  to  wait  and  digest  their  spleen,  while 
new  honours  descended  upon  the  triumphant  Disraeli. 
Lord  Derby's  health  broke  down  ;  he  was  no  longer  equal 
to  the  work  of  office.  He  retired,  and  the  author  of  '  Vivian 
Grey'  became  Prime  Minister.  The  post  which  in  the 
extravagance  of  youthful  ambition  he  had  told  Lord  Mel- 
bourne could  alone  satisfy  his  ambition  was  actually  his 
own,  and  had  been  won  by  courage,  skill,  and  determination, 
and  only  these.  He  libertino  patre  nafits,  a  libertinus 
himself — without  wealth,  without  connection,  for  the  peers 
and  gentlemen  of  England  resented  his  supremacy  while 
they  used  his  services — had  made  himself  the  ruler  of 
the  British  Empire.  He  had  not  stooped  to  the  common 
arts  of  flattery.  He  had  achieved  no  marked  successes  in 
the  service  of  the  country.  It  was  supposed,  perhaps 
without  ground,  that  he  was  not  even  a  grata  persona  to 
the  highest  person  in  the  realm,  till  Her  Majesty  was  com- 
pelled to  accept  his  supremacy.     He  had  won  his  way  by 


PRIME  MINISTER  1 97 

parliamentary  ability  and  by  resolution  to  succeed.  Whether 
it  be  for  the  interest  of  the  nation  in  the  long  run  to  commit 
its  destinies  to  men  of  such  qualifications  is  a  question  which 
it  will  by-and-by  consider.  If  a  time  comes  when  party 
becomes  faction,  and  the  interests  of  the  empire  are  sacri- 
ficed visibly  in  contention  for  office,  when  the  wise  and  the 
honest  hold  aloof  from  politics  as  a  game  in  which  they  can 
no  longer  take  part,  Parliamentary  government  will  fall  into 
the  contempt  which  Disraeli  himself  already  secretly  felt  for 
it.  The  system  will  collapse,  and  other  methods  will  be 
tried.  Disraeli,  however,  had  risen  by  the  regular  process, 
and  according  to  the  representative  principle  was  the  chosen 
of  the  country.  Among  rival  politicians  his  elevation  created 
irritation  more  than  surprise,  for  it  had  been  long  regarded 
as  inevitable.  Outside  Parliamentary  circles  there  was  no 
irritation  at  all,  but  rather  pride  and  pleasure.  Englishmen 
like  those  who  have  made  a  position  for  themselves  by  their 
own  force  of  character.  Disraeli's  public  life  was  before  the 
world.  He  had  made  innumerable  enemies.  A  thousand 
calumnies  had  pursued  him.  His  actions,  good,  bad,  and 
indifferent,  had  been  coloured  to  his  least  advantage.  He 
had  been  described  as  an  adventurer  and  a  charlatan, 
without  honesty,  without  sincerity,  without  patriotism  ;  a 
mercenary,  a  gladiator;  the  Red  Indian  of  debate. 

If  this  was  the  true  account  of  him,  one  has  to  ask 
oneself  in  wonder  what  kind  of  place  the  House  of 
Commons  must  be,  when  such  a  man  can  be  selected  by  it 
as  its  foremost  statesman.  There  he  had  sat  for  thirty  years, 
session  after  session,  ever  foremost  in  the  fight,  face  to  face 
with  antagonists  who  were  reputed  the  ablest  speakers,  the 
most  powerful  thinkers  whom  the  country  could  produce. 
Had  his  enemies'  account  of  him  been   true,  why  had  they 


I98  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

not  exposed  and  made  an  end  of  him  ?  The  English 
people  had  too  much  respect  for  their  institutions  to  believe 
in  so  incredible  a  story.  The  violence  of  the  attacks  recoiled 
upon  their  authors.  With  his  accession  to  the  Premiership 
he  became  an  object  of  marked  and  general  regard.  When 
he  went  down  to  Parliament  for  the  first  time  in  his  new 
capacity,  he  was  wildly  cheered  by  the  crowds  in  Palace 
Yard.  The  shouts  were  echoed  along  Westminster  Hall 
and  through  the  lobbies,  and  were  taken  up  again  warmly 
and  heartily  in  the  House  itself,  which  had  been  the  scene 
of  so  many  conflicts — the  same  House  in  which  he  had 
been  hooted  down  when  he  first  rose  to  speak  there. 

And  the  tribute  was  to  himself  personally.  He  was  not 
the  representative  of  any  great  or  popular  cause.  Even  in 
carrying  his  Reform  Bill  he  had  not  stooped  to  inflated 
rhetoric,  or  held  out  promises  of  visionary  millenniums. 
He  was  regarded  merely  as  a  man  of  courage  and  genius, 
not  less  honest  than  other  politicians  because  his  professions 
were  few. 


IRISH   POLICY   OF   MR.   GLADSTONE  1 99 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Reply  of  the  Liberals  to  the  Tory  Reform  Bill — State  of  Ireland — The 
Protestant  Establishment — Resolution  proposed  by  Mr.  Gladstone 
— Decay  of  Protestant  feeling  in  England — Protestant  character  of 
the  Irish  Church — The  Upas  Tree — Mr.  Gladstone's  Irish  policy — 
Genera]  effect  on  Ireland  of  the  Protestant  Establishment — Voltaire's 
opinion — Imperfect  results — The  character  of  the  Protestant  gentry 
— Nature  of  the  proposed  change— Sprung  on  England  as  a  surprise 
—  Mr.  Gladstone's  resolutions  carried — Fall  of  Disraeli's  Govern- 
ment. 

Disraeli,  in  appropriating  Parliamentary  Reform,  obliged 
the  Liberals  to  look  about  them  for  another  battle-cry  at 
the  next  election— something  popular  and  plausible  which 
would  touch  the  passions  of  the  constituencies.  The  old 
subjects  were  worn  out  or  disposed  of.  It  had  become 
necessary  to  start  new  game.  The  genuine  Radical  desires 
to  make  a  new  world  by  a  reconstruction  of  society.  He 
has  his  eye  always  on  one  or  other  of  the  old  institutions, 
which  he  regards  as  an  obstacle  to  progress.  There  are, 
therefore,  at  all  times,  a  number  of  questions  which  are 
gradually  'ripening,'  as  it  is  called,  but  which  wait  to  be 
practically  dealt  with  till  the;  opportunity  presents  itself. 
Among  these  the  Liberal  leader  had  now  to  make  his 
choice.  A  small  advance  would  not  answer.  Disraeli  had 
ventured  a  long  and  audacious  step.  The  other  side  must 
reply  with  a  second  and  a  longer  if  the  imagination  was  to 
be  effectively  awakened. 


2O0  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

The  Established  Church  of  England,  the  Land  Laws, 
the  House  of  Lords,  perhaps  the  Crown,  were  eventually 
to  be  thrown  into  the  crucible  ;  but  the  nation  was  not  yet 
prepared  for  an  assault  on  either  of  these.  The  weak  point 
was  found  in  Ireland,  which  at  all  times  had  been  the 
favourite  plaything  of  English  faction.  Three  millions  of 
Irish  had  fled  across  the  Atlantic  to  escape  from  famine 
since  the  failure  of  the  potato.  Some  had  gone  of  their 
own  wills,  some  had  been  roughly  expelled  from  their  homes. 
With  few  exceptions,  they  had  borne  the  cost  of  their  own 
exportation.  Those  who  went  first  sent  home  money  to 
bring  out  their  families  and  friends,  and  the  economists  had 
congratulated  themselves  that  the  Irish  difficulty  was  at  last 
disposed  of,  at  no  expense  to  the  British  taxpayer.  A  few 
insignificant  persons,  who  understood  the  Irish  character, 
knew  too  well  that  the  congratulations  were  premature.  If 
the  poor  Irish  were  really  our  fellow-subjects,  these  persons 
thought  that  some  effort  should  have  been  made  to  soften 
their  expulsion,  and  to  provide  or  at  least  to  offer  them 
homes  in  the  vast  colonial  territories  which  then  belonged 
to  us.  Past  efforts  in  that  direction,  indeed,  had  not  been 
encouraging.  For  several  generations  we  had  poured  ship- 
loads of  Irish  into  the  West  Indies.  Scarcely  a  survivor  of 
Celtic  blood  is  now  to  be  found  in  those  islands.  It  would 
have  been  something,  however,  to  have  shown  that  we  were 
generously  anxious  to  bear  our  share  in  the  undeserved 
calamity  which  had  fallen  on  an  ill-used  people,  and  to  try 
to  repair  the  efforts  of  centuries  of  negligence.  If  we  left 
them  to  their  own  resources  without  regret,  with  an  avowed 
confession  that  we  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  them,  Irish  dis- 
affection would  become  more  intense  than  ever.  We  did 
so  leave  them.     They  streamed  across  to  the  United  States, 


FENIANISM  201 

carrying  hatred  of  England  along  with  them,  while  the  walls 
of  the  deserted  villages  in  Connaught  preached  revenge  to 
those  who  were  left  at  home.  The  exiles  throve  in  their  new 
land— a  fresh  evidence,  if  they  needed  more,  that  English 
domination  had  been  the  cause  of  their  miseries.  They 
multiplied,  and  became  a  factor  in  American  political  life. 
They  fought,  and  fought  well,  in  the  American  Civil  War. 
When  the  Civil  "War  was  over,  they  hoped  for  a  war  with 
England,  and  tried  to  kindle  it  in  Canada.  The  'Alabama ' 
question  having  been  settled  peacefully,  they  failed  in  their 
immediate  purpose  ;  but  none  the  less  they  were  animated 
with  an  all-pervading  purpose  of  revenge  ;  and  there  were 
many  thousands  of  them  who  had  escaped  the  Southern 
bullets  who  were  ready  for  any  desperate  adventure.  An 
invading  force  was  to  cross  the  Atlantic:,  while  Ireland  or- 
ganised itself  in  secret  societies  to  receive  them  as  it  did  to 
receive  the  French  in  1797.  Chester  Castle  and  the  Fenian 
rebellion  of  1867  are  not  yet  forgotten  even  in  these  days  of 
short  memories  and  excited  hopes.  The  rising  was  abortive. 
It  failed,  as  Irish  rebellions  have  so  often  failed,  because  the 
Irish  people  trusted  in  their  numbers  and  neglected  to  make 
serious  preparations.  The  American  general  who  came 
over  to  take  the  command  had  been  told  that  he  would 
find  ten  thousand  men  drilled  and  armed.  lie  did  not 
find  five  hundred,  and  he  left  the  enterprise  in  contempt. 
The  scattered  risings  which  followed  were  easily  suppressed, 
and  were  suppressed  with  gentleness.  The  exhortation  of  a 
leading  Liberal  journal  to  make  an  example  of  the  rebels  in 
the  field,  because  executions  afterwards  were  inconvenient, 
was  happily  not  attended  to.  but  the  leniency  with  which 
the  leading  insurgents  were  treated  was  construed  into  a 
iprj  oi   weakness,      The  rebellious  spirit  was  led  from. 


202  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

America,  and  detached  acts  of  violence,  attempted  rescues 
of  prisoners,  and  blowing  up  of  gaols  showed  that  Ireland 
was  as  unsubdued  as  ever.  The  great  Liberal  champion  saw 
the  occasion  which  he  required.  The  Clerkenwell  explosion, 
he  said,  had  brought  the  Irish  question  within  the  range  of 
practical  politics,  and  in  this  extraordinary  acknowledgment 
invited  an  inflammable  people  to  persevere  in  outrage  if 
they  desired  to  secure  their  rights.  He  declared  in  a 
memorable  speech  that  the  cause  of  Irish  wretchedness 
had  been  Protestant  Ascendency.  Protestant  Ascendency 
was  the  Irish  upas-tree,  with  its  three  branches,  the  Church, 
the  land,  and  the  education.  The  deadly  growth  once  cut 
down,  the  animosity  would  end,  and  the  English  lion  and 
the  Irish  lamb  would  lie  down  together  in  peace.  That  to 
disarm  the  garrison  was  a  likely  mode  of  reconciling  an 
unwilling  people  to  a  connection  which  they  detest,  was  an 
expectation  not  in  accordance  with  general  human  experi- 
ence ;  still  less  when  it  was  confessedly  recommended  as  a 
reward  of  insurrection.  But  the  Irish  question  was  ingeniously 
selected  as  a  counterstroke  to  Disraeli's  Reform  Bill.  Had 
Disraeli  but  left  Reform  to  its  owners  the  Liberals  would 
have  been  provided  with  work  at  home  and  have  left  Ireland 
alone.  But  the  deed  was  done,  and  many  circumstances 
combined  to  suggest  to  the  eminent  statesman  who  had 
discovered  the  secret  of  Irish  disaffection  that  here  was  the 
proper  field  for  his  genius,  and  that  he  was  peculiarly  the 
person  to  put  his  hand  to  the  plough.  The  Irish  Church 
had  long  been  a  scandal  to  Liberal  sentiment,  and  Disraeli 
himself  had  denounced  it.  The  land  was  the  favourite 
subject  of  Radical  declamation.  Land-owning  in  Ireland 
showed  under  its  least  favourable  aspect,  and  could  there 
be  assaulted  at  best  advantage.     It  was  true  that  the  control 


WEAKENED   INFLUENCE  OF   PROTESTANTISM  203 

of  Ireland  was  vital  to  the  safety  of  Great  Britain,  and  that 

the  Protestants  there  were  the  only  part  of  the  population 
whose  loyalty  could  be  depended  on.  Until  recent  years  the 
Protestant  feeling  in  England  and  Scotland  would  have  for- 
bidden a  revolutionary  change  avowedly  intended  to  weaken 
the  Protestant  settlement  ;  but  the  extended  franchise, 
either  already  conceded  or  made  inevitable  by  Disraeli's 
Bill,  would  throw  four-fifths  of  the  representation  of  Ire- 
land into  Nationalist  hands,  and  the  adhesion  of  such  a 
phalanx  would  give  the  party  which  could  secure  it  an 
overwhelming  preponderance,  while  the  Protestant  pre- 
judices which  had  served  hitherto  as  a  check  were  wearing 
away. 

Sixty  years  ago  the  British  nation  adhered  almost 
unanimously  to  the  traditions  of  the  Reformation.  It  had 
grown  to  its  present  greatness  as  a  Protestant  power.  The 
Pope  was  still  the  Man  of  Sin.  Roman  doctrine,  either 
pure  or  modified  into  Anglicanism,  was  regarded  with 
suspicion,  aversion,  or  contempt.  Conversions  were  un- 
heard of,  and  the  few  surviving  hereditary  Catholics  were 
unobtrusive  and  politically  ciphers.  Catholic  Emancipation 
in  restoring  them  to  power  restored  them  at  the  same  time 
to  social  consequence.  The  Liberals  who  had  advocated 
that  great  measure,  historians,  statesmen,  and  philosophers, 
broke  with  the  principles  of  which  their  predecessors  had 
once  been  the  staunchest  advocates,  changed  front,  and 
traduced  the  Reformation  itself,  to  which  Liberalism  owed 
its  existence.  While  Macaulay  and  Buckle  were  cursing 
Cranmer,  the  Oxford  Movement  made  its  way  among  the 
clergy,  was  welcomed  largely  by  the  upper  classes,  whose 
nerves  were  offended  by  Puritan  vulgarities,  and  leavened 
gradually  the  whole  organisation  of  the  Church  of  England. 


204  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

Men  of  intellect  who  would  once  have  interfered  had 
ceased  to  care  for  such  things,  and  allowed  them  to  go  their 
own  way.  The  Rationalists  and  critics,  whom  Disraeli  so 
sagaciously  disliked,  worked  havoc  in  a  party  whose  whole 
belief  was  in  their  Bible.  The  Evangelicals,  who  had  been 
narrow  and  tyrannical  in  the  days  of  their  power,  found 
themselves  fading  into  impotence ;  while  in  the  mass  of  the 
people  a  doctrinal  faith  was  superseded  by  a  vague  religiosity 
which  saw  no  particular  difference  between  one  creed  and 
another. 

The  High  Churchmen,  who  grew  strong  as  their  rivals 
declined,  called  themselves  Catholics  again,  and  abjured  the 
name  of  Protestant.  To  unprotestantise  the  Church  of 
England  had  been  the  confessed  purpose  of  the  first 
Tractarians,  and  the  work  had  been  effectively  done.  Mr. 
Gladstone  was  the  most  distinguished  of  their  lay  adherents. 
The  purity  of  his  life,  the  loftiness  of  his  principles,  his  well- 
known  because  slightly  ostentatious  piety  commended  him 
generally  to  the  national  confidence,  English  statesmen 
with  strong  religious  convictions  having  been  recently 
uncommon  articles.  Thus,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary 
Radical  forces,  Mr.  Gladstone  had  the  support  of  a  great 
body  of  influential  clergy,  who,  although  tried  at  times  by 
his  questionable  associations,  continued  to  believe  in  him 
and  uphold  him— to  uphold  him  especially  in  his  onslaught 
upon  their  unfortunate  Irish  sister.  The  Irish  Church 
had  refused  to  follow  in  the  new  counter-Reformation. 
The  Irish  Church  was  Evangelical  to  the  heart — actively, 
vigorously,  healthily  Evangelical — a  Church  militant  in 
Luther's  spirit.  '  We  have  no  Tractarians  here,'  said  the 
Bishop  of  Cashel  to  me.  '  We  have  the  real  thing,  and 
know  too  much  about  it.'     The  life  which  was  showing  was 


THE   CHURCH   OF   IRELAND  205 

of  late  growth  too,  and  was   therefore  likely  to  continue. 
The    Church  of   Ireland  as    a    missionary    institution    had 
not  been  a  success.     Established  by  Elizabeth  for  political 
reasons,  it  had  existed  for  two  centuries  and  a  half,  making 
no    impression    on   the   mass   of    the   population.      Such 
Protestant   spirituality   as   remained   was   confined   to   the 
Presbyterians  of  Ulster  and  the  few  Southern  Nonconformists 
who  were  descended  from  the  Cromwellian  colonists.     The 
bishops,  secured  after  the  Revolution  by  the  Penal  Laws, 
had  received  their  large  incomes  and  consumed  them  with 
dignity  ;  but  when  they  exerted  themselves  it  was  to  perse- 
cute Protestant  dissenters  and  drive  them  out  of  Ireland. 
The  ancient  churches  fell  to  ruins.     Incumbents  ceased  to 
reside  where  they  had  no  congregations,  left  their  parishes 
to    underpaid    curates,    or   more    commonly    to    the    tithe 
proctor.     So  things    went  on  till   the  long  negligence  had 
borne  its  inevitable  fruit.     The  Nonconformists  were  then 
let  alone.     The  rebellion  of  1798,  the  rapid  growth  of  the 
Catholic  population,  the  immediate  contact  with  the  Catholic 
system  in  an  aggressive  form,  and  the  relaxation  of  the  Penal 
Code  gradually  roused  the  clergy  to  exertion.     The  ruined 
churches  were  repaired  or  others  provided,  and  before  the 
middle  of  the  present  century  the  Protestant  ministers  in 
Ireland  were  showing  a  sincerity,  a  piety,  a  devotion  to  the 
work  of  their  calling  of  exceptional  and  peculiar  interest.     I 
was   myself  at   that   time  brought  in  contact  with  many  of 
the    Established  clergy  in  the   southern  provinces.     They 
had  more  of  the  saintly  character  of  the  early  Christians 
than  any  clergy  of  any  denomination  that  I  had  ever  fallen 
in  with. 

After  the  tithe  question  had  been  settled  they  had  no 
quarrels  with  the  Catholic  peasantry.     They  were  poor,  but 


206  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

they  were  charitable  beyond  their  means.  They  were 
beloved,  respected,  trusted  by  all  classes  of  the  population. 
In  every  parish  there  was  a  resident  educated  gentleman, 
whose  help  in  the  most  miserable  times  was  never  asked  in 
vain  if  the  occasion  was  not  beyond  the  resources  of  those 
to  whom  the  appeal  was  made.  They  made  some  few 
proselytes,  and  this  was  treated  as  a  crime  in  them,  while 
their  rivals  thought  it  no  crime  to  convert  a  heretic.  The 
Evangelical  Calvinism  which  they  generally  professed  was 
more  attractive  to  the  Celtic  peasantry  than  the  Episcopal 
Via  Media.  The  Irish  nature  is  impressible  by  a  real  belief, 
and  the  old  creed  which  roused  half  Europe  to  fight  for 
spiritual  liberty  in  the  sixteenth  century  in  this  one  corner 
of  the  globe  remained  alive  and  active.  The  differences 
which  had  separated  the  Establishment  from  the  Ulster 
Presbyterians  had  practically  disappeared.  Eor  the  first 
time  since  the  Reformation  the  Protestants  of  Ireland  were 
of  one  heart  and  one  mind. 

The  time  had  been  when  such  a  disposition  would  have 
had  the  warm  sympathies  of  the  sister  island.  But  the 
Protestant  fire  on  this  side  of  the  Channel  had  sunk  to  ashes, 
and  the  ashes  themselves  were  cooling.  Even  among  the 
Scotch  and  the  Dissenters  the  creed  of  Knox  and  Cromwell 
had  subsided  into  opinion  flavoured  with  a  vague  Liberalism. 
While  the  English  Church  parties  were  drifting  Romeward 
with  an  eagerness  which  to  some  persons  appeared  like  the 
descent  over  a  steep  place  of  certain  foolish  animals, 
their  poor  Irish  brethren  who  adhered  to  the  faith  of  their 
fathers  had  lost  their  sympathy,  and  when  the  statesman 
whom  they  regarded  with  so  much  admiration  proposed  to 
disable  and  disendow  the  Irish  branch  of  the  Establishment, 
they  looked  on  with  indifference  and  did  not  withdraw  their 


IRELAND  AND  ENGLAND         207 

confidence  in  him.  They  did  not  actively  approve.  Even 
Mr.  Gladstone  himself  professed  to  feel  some  qualms  of 
conscience.  'We  do  it  wrong,'  he  said,  'being  so  majes- 
tical,  to  offer  it  the  show  of  violence.'  But  by  their  silence 
they  gave  him  their  tacit  sanction,  and  lent  an  air  of 
respectability  to  a  proceeding  which  without  it  he  might 
have  failed  to  go  through  with.  They  allowed  the  Irish 
Church  to  be  dealt  with  politically,  as  a  branch  of  his 
Protestant  Ascendency  which  had  been  called  a  upas-tree. 

As  a  Churchman  Mr.  Gladstone  was  a  Tractarian  ;  as  a 
statesman,  he  had  become  an  advanced  Radical.  From 
neither  point  of  view  was  the  Irish  Church  to  his  liking. 
Yet  as  English  statesman  he  was  taking  a  bold,  perhaps  a 
rash  step  in  endeavouring  to  weaken  English  authority  in  a 
country  so  ill-affected  to  us,  when  it  had  been  built  up  with 
so  many  centuries  of  effort.  Geographical  position  compels 
us  to  keep  Ireland  subject  to  the  British  Crown.  That  is 
the  first  fact  of  the  situation— a  situation  which  cannot  be 
changed  till  we  have  lost  our  place  as  a  great  European 
power.  The  Irish,  perhaps  as  much  for  this  reason  as  for 
any  other,  have  resisted  and  still  resist.  They  might  have 
been  reconciled  to  their  fate  in  return  for  other  advantages 
if  their  own  wills  had  been  consulted  ;  but  they  have  re- 
sented the  claim  of  necessity.  Difference  of  religion  has 
not  been  the  cause  of  the  hostility.  Before  the  Reformation 
as  much  as  after  it  they  never  missed  an  opportunity  of 
injuring  or  attempting  to  break  from  us.  The  Reformation 
appeared  to  sanctify  their  quarrel,  and  caused  a  century  of 
civil  war  and  desolation  ;  and  the  English  Parliament,  after 
all  other  means  had  been  tried  in  vain  to  bring  them  to 
obedient  e,  had  determined  to  colonise  the  island  with  Scotch 
and  English  Protestants  whose  loyalty  could  be  depended 


203  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

on.  The  land  was  taken  forcibly  away  from  the  native 
owners,  and  was  given  to  adventurers  or  to  Cromwell's 
soldiers  who  would  undertake  to  defend  it.  It  was  a 
violent  measure ;  but  to  hold  a  country  in  subjection 
against  its  will  is  itself  an  act  of  violence  which  entails 
others.  The  Irish  people  had  shown  in  five  centuries  of 
resistance  that  they  could  only  be  held  to  us  by  force.  The 
colonists  were  the  English  garrison,  and  however  grave  their 
faults  and  miserable  their  deficiencies,  the  result  was  that 
Ireland  had  a  century  of  peace.  Twice  during  that  period 
there  was  a  civil  war  in  Great  Britain,  and  Ireland  remained 
quiet.  When  the  American  colonies  revolted,  the  Irish 
Catholics  offered  their  swords  and  their  services  to  '  the 
best  of  kings,'  and  only  when  the  Penal  Laws  were  relaxed 
and  they  were  allowed  an  instalment  of  liberty  did  they 
again  attempt  insurrection.  The  Penal  Laws  are  considered 
an  atrocity.  They  were  borrowed  from  the  terms  of  the 
Revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  Voltaire,  an 
impartial  witness  on  such  a  subject,  was  able  to  use  language 
about  Ireland  during  the  time  when  they  were  in  force  which 
deserves  more  attention  than  it  has  met  with.  '  Ce  pays 
est  toujours  reste  sous  la  domination  de  l'Angleterre,  mais 
inculte,  pauvre  et  inutile  jusqu'a  ce  qu'enfin  dans  le 
dix-huitieme  siecle  Pagriculture,  les  manufactures,  les  arts, 
les  sciences,  tout  s'y  est  perfectionne,  et  l'Irlande,  quoique 
subjuguee,  est  devenue  une  des  plus  florissantes  provinces 
de  l'Europe.'  ('  Essai  sur  les  Mceurs,'  chap.  50.)  So  Ireland 
appeared  to  the  keenest  eye  in  Europe  at  the  time  when  it 
is  the  fashion  to  say  that  she  was  groaning  under  the  hate- 
fullest  tyranny.  The  description  was  too  favourable,  yet  it 
was  relatively  correct.  The  Irish  are  a  military  people. 
They  are   admirable  as  soldiers   and   police.     They  obey 


IRISH    CHARACTER  209 

authority  and  prosper  under  it.  They  run  wild  when  left 
to  their  own  wills.  An  industrious  people  thrive  best  when 
free.  A  fighting  people  require  to  be  officered,  and  when 
authority  is  firm  and  just  are  uniformly  loyal.  In  Ireland, 
unfortunately,  authority  was  not  firm  and  was  not  just.  The 
trade  laws  were  iniquitous.  The  Protestant  gentry  were 
forced  into  idleness.  They  became  a  garrison  without 
wholesome  occupation  ;  yet  at  worst  such  advance  as 
Ireland  did  make  was  wholly  due  to  them,  and  every  step 
which  was  taken  to  reduce  their  power  brought  back  the 
old  symptoms.  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  system  was 
satisfactory  ;  yet  to  abolish  it  altogether,  to  declare  it  to  be 
a  poisonous  plant  which  required  to  be  uprooted,  was  an 
adventure  which  ought  not  to  have  been  entered  upon 
without  maturer  consideration  than  it  received.  The  in- 
justice (such  as  there  was)  lay  in  the  original  sin  of  forcing 
an  unwilling  people  into  a  connection  which  they  detest. 
Protestant  ascendency  was  the  instrument  by  which  the 
connection  was  maintained,  and  the  ohly  one  which  had 
even  partially  succeeded.  If  it  was  swept  away,  what  was 
to  take  its  place?  Conciliation,  we  are  told.  But  what 
had  conciliation  effected  hitherto?  The  abolition  of  the 
Penal  Laws  was  to  have  brought  peace.  It  brought  only  a 
sword.  The  admission  of  the  Catholics  to  the  franchise 
was  to  have  brought  peace.  It  was  followed  instantly  by 
rebellion.  Parliament  was  opened  to  them,  and  tithe  riots 
broke  out,  and  midnight  murdering.  On  the  heel  of  each 
con<  ession  came  a  Coercion  Act,  because  Ireland  could  not 
be  governed  otherwise.  The  eager  Celt  has  regarded  each 
step  gained  as  the  conquest  of  an  outwork  of  English 
dominion  which  has  served  hut  to  whet  the  appetite  for 
attack  and  to  weaken  the  defence.     What  reason  was  there 

P 


210  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

to  suppose  that  when  they  heard  Church  and  landlords 
denounced,  when  they  were  told  by  a  great  English  states- 
man that  their  grievances  would  only  be  attended  to  when 
they  made  themselves  dangerous,  the  result  would  be 
different  ?  The  great  grievance  of  all,  the  English  sove- 
reignty, would  be  left.  If  that  too  was  to  be  sacrificed — if 
after  the  internal  administration  of  their  country  was  made 
over  to  themselves  they  showed  that  nothing  would  satisfy 
them  except  national  independence — were  the  advocates  of 
a  trusting  policy  prepared  to  concede  this  point  also  ?  They 
might  answer  '  Yes '  perhaps.  Tetter  Ireland  should  be  free 
altogether  than  chained  to  England  against  her  will.  This 
might  be  their  own  opinion,  but  they  could  not  answer  for 
the  English  nation  ;  and  if  the  English  nation  refused, 
there  would  be  nothing  for  it  but  civil  war  and  a  fresh 
conquest. 

Before  letting  loose  an  agitation  so  far-reaching  and  of 
such  uncertain  consequence,  Mr,  Gladstone  ought  to  have 
laid  out  the  whole  problem  for  consideration  in  all  its  possible 
issues  ;  not  partially  and  crudely  for  an  immediate  election 
cry,  but  in  a  form  in  which  it  could  be  maturely  discussed 
and  paused  over  for  years.  To  reverse  and  undo  the  policy 
of  centuries  was  a  step  which  ought  not  to  have  been  ven- 
tured without  the  national  consent.  The  electors  knew 
less  of  Ireland  even  than  Mr.  Gladstone  himself,  who  ought 
to  have  made  them  first  understand  what  it  was  which  they 
were  called  on  to  sanction. 

But  these  are  not  times  for  long  reflection.  A  Parlia- 
mentary leader  sees  an  opportunity.  His  followers  echo 
him.  Sentiment  displaces  reason,  and  a  majority  is  the  most 
conclusive  of  arguments. 

Mr.  Gladstone  brought  forward  his  famous  resolutions, 


CONSERVATIVE   DEFEAT  211 

carried  them  against  Mr.  Disraeli's  Government,  and  at  the 
dissolution  was  rewarded  by  a  majority  so  sweeping  that 
resistance  was  impossible.  Disraeli  resigned  without  waiting 
for  the  meeting  of  Parliament — a  sensible  example  which 
has  been  since  followed.  With  his  usual  calmness  he 
rallied  his  distracted  followers  and  waited  patiently  while 
the  two  great  branches  of  the  upas-tree  were  being  hacked 
off,  well  aware  that  the  hot  stage  would  be  followed  by  a 
cold  one  when  the  effects  of  this  new  departure  began  to 
show  themselves.  The  Irish  Church  was  reduced  to  a 
voluntary  communion.  Tenants  and  landlords  were  made 
joint  owners  of  their  lands — ill-mated  companions  set  to 
sleep  in  a  single  bed,  from  which  one  or  other  before  long  was 
likely  to  be  ejected.  Ireland  made  its  usual  response  ;  and 
within  two  years  the  state  of  Westmeath  became  so  serious 
that  the  Cabinet  which  was  to  have  won  the  Irish  heart  was 
obliged  to  move  for  a  secret  committee  to  consider  how  the 
administration  was  to  be  carried  on.  Disraeli  on  leaving 
office  might  if  lie  had  chosen  have  retired  to  the  Upper 
House.  He  pleased  himself  better  by  prevailing  on  the 
Queen  to  confer  a  coronet  on  his  faithful  companion,  and 
no  act  of  his  life  gave  him  greater  pride  or  pleasure.  Mrs. 
Disraeli  '  became  Viscountess  Eeaconsfield,  and  he  himself 
remained  in  the  House  of  Commons,  where  he  could  watch 
and  criticise. 

A  secret  committee  is  only  moved  for  on  grave  occa 
sions.     An  evidence  so  rapid  and  so  palpable  of  the  results 
of  Mr.  Gladstone's  operations  was  an  opportunity  for  the 
exercise  of  Mr.  Disraeli's  peculiar  powers.     Of  late  years  he 
had  been  sparing  in  his  sarcasms.      His  speeches  had  been 

1  Lady  Bi  aeon  fii  Id  enjoyi  1  her  honours  only  for  four  years.     She 
died  December  15,  1S72. 

P  2 


212  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

serious  and  argumentative,  and  the  rapier  and  the  whip  lash 
had  been  laid  aside.  But  they  were  lying  ready  for  him,  and 
he  had  not  forgotten  his  old  art.  He  did  not  again  object 
as  he  had  objected  in  Peel's  case  to  granting  extraordinary 
powers  to  a  Government  which  he  distrusted.  He  was 
willing  to  assist  the  Cabinet,  since  they  needed  assistance,  in 
maintaining  order  in  Ireland ;  Lord  Hartington  had  re- 
minded him  that  he  had  himself  made  a  similar  application 
in  another  Parliament.  Put  he  confessed  his  astonishment 
that  such  an  application  should  be  necessary.  '  The  noble 
lord,'  he  said,  '  has  made  some  reference,  from  that  rich- 
ness of  precedent  with  which  he  has  been  crammed  on  this 
occasion,  to  what  occurred  in  1852  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
distress  of  this  regenerating  Government  of  Ireland  sup- 
ported by  a  hundred  legions  and  elected  by  an  enthusiastic 
people  in  order  to  terminate  the  grievances  of  that  country 
and  secure  its  contentment  and  tranquillity,  he  must  needs 
dig  up  our  poor  weak  Government  of  1852  and  say,  "  There 
was  Mr.  Napier,  your  attorney-general  :  he  moved  for  a  com- 
mittee, and  you  were  a  member  of  his  Cabinet."  If  I  had 
had  a  majority  of  a  hundred  behind  my  back  I  would  not 
have  moved  for  that  committee.  I  did  the  best  I  could. 
But  was  the  situation  in  which  I  was  placed  similar  to  the 
situation  of  her  Majesty's  present  Ministers  ?  Look  for  a 
moment  to  the  relations  which  this  Government  bears  to 
the  House  of  Commons  with  regard  to  the  administration 
of  Ireland.  The  right  hon.  gentleman  opposite  (Mr. 
Gladstone)  was  elected  for  a  specific  purpose.  He  was  the 
Minister  who  alone  was  able  to  cope  with  these  long-enduring 
and  mysterious  evils  that  had  tortured  and  tormented  the 
civilisation  of  England.  The  right  hon.  gentleman  per- 
suaded the   people  of  England   that   with    regard  to  Irish 


EFFECTS  OF  MR.  GLADSTONE'S  POLK  \    21 5 

politics  he  was  in  possession  of  the  philosopher's  stone. 
Well,  sir,  he  has  been  returned  to  this  House  with  an 
immense  majority,  with  the  object  of  securing  the  tranquillity 
and  content  of  Ireland.  Has  anything  been  grudged  him — 
time,  labour,  devotion  ?  Whatever  has  been  proposed  has 
been  carried.  Under  his  influence,  and  at  his  instance,  we 
have  legalised  confiscation,  we  have  consecrated  sacrilege, 
we  have  condoned  treason,  we  have  destroyed  Churches,  we 
have  shaken  property  to  its  foundations,  and  we  have  emptied 
gaols  ;  and  now  he  cannot  govern  one  county  without  coming 
to  a  Parliamentary  committee.  The  right  hon.  gentleman, 
after  all  his  heroic  exploits,  and  at  the  head  of  his  great 
majority,  is  making  government  ridiculous.' 

'  We  have  legalised  confiscation,  we  have  consecrated 
sacrilege,  we  have  condoned  treason,'  pronounced  with 
drawling  alliteration,  was  worth  a  whole  Parliamentary 
campaign.  Everyone  recollected  the  words  from  the  neat- 
ness of  the  combination  ;  everyone  felt  and  acknowledged 
their  biting  justice.  No  one  was  a  match  for  Disraeli  in 
the  use  of  the  rapier.  The  composition  of  such  sentences 
was  an  intellectual  pleasure  to  him.  A  few  years  later,  when 
the  Prince  Imperial  was  killed  in  South  Africa,  he  observed, 
on  hearing  of  it,  'A  very  remarkable  people  the  Zulus  : 
they  defeat  our  generals,  they  convert  our  bishops,  they 
have  settled  the  fate  of  a  great  European  dynasty.' 

No  Government  was  ever  started  on  an  ambitious  career 
with  louder  pretensions  or  brighter  promises  than  Mr. 
Gladstone's  Cabinet  in  1868.  In  less  than  three  years 
their  glory  was  gone,  the  aureole  had  faded  from  their 
brows.  The  bubble  of  oratory,  which  had  glowed  with  all 
the  colours  of  the  rainbow,  had  burst  when  in  contact  with 
fact,  and  the  poor  English   people  had  awoke  to  the  dreary 


214  LORD    BEACONSFIELD 

conviction  that  it  was  but  vapour  after  all.  In  April,  1872, 
the  end  was  visibly  coming,  and  Disraeli  could  indulge 
again,  at  their  expense,  in  his  malicious  mockery.  In  a 
speech  at  Manchester  he  said  : 

'  The  stimulus  is  subsiding.  The  paroxysms  ended 
in  prostration.  Some  took  refuge  in  melancholy,  and  their 
eminent  chief  alternated  between  a  menace  and  a  sigh.  As 
I  sat  opposite  the  Treasury  bench,  the  Ministers  reminded 
me  of  those  marine  landscapes  not  unusual  on  the  coasts 
of  South  America.  You  behold  a  range  of  exhausted 
volcanoes.  Not  a  flame  flickers  on  a  single  pallid  crest. 
But  the  situation  is  still  dangerous.  There  are  occasional 
earthquakes,  and  ever  and  anon  the  dark  rumbling  of  the 
sea.' 


'LOTH  AIR'  215 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  calm  of  satisfied  ambition— A  new  novel— '  Lothair  '—Survey  of 
English  society— The  modern  aristocracy— Forces  working  on  the 
surface  and  below  it  —  Worship  of  rank  —  Cardinal  Grandison— 
Revolutionary  socialism— Romeward  drift  of  the  higher  classes— 
'  Lothair  '  by  far  the  most  remarkable  of  all  Disraeli's  writings. 

Once  again  in  Opposition,  Disraeli  found  leisure  to  return 
to  his  early  occupations.  As  a  politician,  and  at  the  head 
of  a  minority  for  the  time  hopelessly  weak,  he  had  merely 
to  look  on  and  assist,  by  opportune  sarcasms,  the  ebb  of 
Liberal  popularity. 

In  this  comparative  calm  he  resumed  his  profession  as 
a  novelist,  which  he  had  laid  aside  for  more  than  twenty 
years,  and  delivered  himself  of  a  work  immeasurably 
superior  to  anything  of  the  kind  which  he  had  hitherto 
produced.  'Vivian  Grey'  and  '  Contarini  Fleming  '  were 
portraits  of  himself,  drawn  at  an  age  of  vanity  and  self- 
consciousness.  'Henrietta  Temple'  and  '  Venetia  '  were 
clever  stories —written,  probably,  because  he  wanted  money 
— but  without  the  merit  or  the  interest  which  would  have 
given  them  a  permanent  place  in  English  literature.  The 
famous  trilogy,  'Coningsby,'  'Sybil,' and  'Tancred.'  though 
of  fat  greater  value,  have  the  fatal  defect,  as  works  of  art, 
that  they  were  avowedly  written  for  a  purpose.  'Lothair' 
has  none  of  these  faults — Disraeli  himself  is  imperceptible  ; 
the    inner  meaning    of   the   book    does    not    lie    upon  the 


2l6  LORD   EEACONSFIELD 

surface.  It  was  supposed,  on  its  first  appearance,  to  be  a 
vulgar  glorification  of  the  splendours  of  the  great  English 
nobles  into  whose  society  he  had  been  admitted  as  a 
parvenu,  and  whose  condescension  he  rewarded  by  painting 
them  in  their  indolent  magnificence.  The  glitter  and  tinsel 
was  ascribed  to  a  Jewish  taste  for  tawdry  decoration,  while 
he,  individually,  was  thought  to  be  glutted  to  satiation  in  the 
social  Paradise,  like  '  Ixion  at  the  feasts  of  the  gods.' 
The  divinities  themselves  were  amused  and  forgiving.  They 
did  not  resent — perhaps  they  secretly  liked — the  coloured 
photographs  in  which  they  saw  themselves  depicted.  The 
life  which  Disraeli  described  was  really  their  own,  drawn 
naturally,  without  envy  or  malice;  a  life  in  which  they  en- 
joyed every  pleasure  which  art  could  invent  or  fortune 
bestow,  where  they  could  discharge  their  duties  to  society 
by  simply  existing,  and  where  they  had  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that,  by  the  mere  gratification  of  their  wishes, 
they  were  providing  employment  for  multitudes  of  de- 
pendents. They  had  cultivated  the  graces  of  perfected 
humanity  in  these  splendid  surroundings,  and  '  Lothair ' 
was  accepted  as  a  voluntary  offering  of  not  undeserved 
homage. 

In  all  Disraeli's  writings,  from  his  earliest  age,  there  is 
traceable  a  conviction  that  no  country  could  prosper  under 
a  free  Constitution,  without  an  aristocracy  with  great  duties 
and  great  privileges  ;  an  aristocracy  who,  as  leaders  of  the 
people,  should  be  their  examples  also  of  manliness  and 
nobility  of  character.  He  had  observed  how,  as  political 
power  had  passed  away  from  the  English  peers,  while  their 
wealth  remained,  and  increased,  their  habits  had  become 
more  self-indulgent — they  had  become  a  superior  but  socially 
exclusive  caste.     They  were  still  an  estate   of  the  realm, 


'LOTHAIR*  217 


but  they  had  become,  like  the  gods  of  Epicurus,  lifted 
above  the  toils  and  troubles  of  this  mortal  world,  still 
feeding  on  the  offerings  which  continued  to  smoke  upon 
the  altars,  but  of  no  definite  use,  and  likely,  it  might  be,  to 
lose  their  celestial  thrones,  should  mankind  cease  to  believe 
in  them.  The  occupation  of  the  Elysians  in  the  '  Infernal 
Marriage '  was  to  go  to  operas  and  plays  and  balls,  to  wander 
in  the  green  shades  of  the  forest,  to  canter  in  light-hearted 
cavalcades  over  breezy  downs,  to  banquet  with  the  beautiful 
and  the  witty,  to  send  care  to  the  devil,  and  indulge  the 
whim  of  the  moment.  It  was  easy  to  see  who  were  meant 
by  the  Elysians.  Privileged  mortals  they  might  be,  but 
mortals  out  of  whom,  unless  they  roused  themselves,  no 
future  rulers  would  ever  rise  to  govern  again  the  English 
nation.  The  Emperor  Julian  imagined  that  he  could 
galvanise  the  dead  gods  of  Paganism  ;  Disraeli,  believing 
that  an  aristocracy  of  some  kind  was  a  political  necessity, 
had  dreamt  of  an  awakening  of  the  young  generation  of 
English  nobles  to  the  heroic  virtues  of  the  age  of  the 
Plantagenets. 

A  quarter  of  a  century  had  gone  by  since  he  had  sent 
Tancred  for  inspiration  to  Mount  Sinai.  During  all  that 
time  he  had  lived  himself  within  the  privileged  circle.  He 
had  not  over-estimated  the  high  native  qualities  of  the 
patrician  lords  and  dames,  but  he  had  recognised  the 
futility  of  his  imaginations.  They  were  as  little  capable  of 
change  as  Venus  and  Apollo,  and  in  his  enforced  leisure- 
he  drew  their  likenesses,  with  a  light  satire— so  light  that 
they  failed  to  perceive  it.  The  students  of  English  history 
in  time  to  come,  who  would  know  what  the  nobles  ot 
England  were  like  in  the  days  of  Queen  Victoria,  will  read 
'Lothair'    with    the    same    interest   with    which    they    read 


2l8  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

'  Horace  '  and  '  Juvenal.'  When  1  Israeli  wrote,  they  were 
in  the  zenith  of  their  magnificence.  The  industrial  energy 
of  the  age  had  doubled  their  already  princely  revenues 
without  effort  of  their  own.  They  were  the  objects  of 
universal  homage — partly  a  vulgar  adulation  of  rank,  partly 
the  traditionary  reverence  for  their  order,  which  had  not 
yet  begun  to  wane.  Though  idleness  and  flattery  had 
done  their  work  to  spoil  them,  they  retained  much  of  the 
characteristics  of  a  high-born  race.  Even  Carlyle  thought 
that  they  were  the  best  surviving  specimens  of  the  ancient 
English.  But  their  self-indulgence  had  expanded  with  then- 
incomes.  Compared  with  the  manners  of  the  modern 
palace  or  castle,  the  habits  of  their  grandfathers  and  grand- 
mothers had  been  frugality  and  simplicity  :  and  they  had 
no  duties — or  none  which  they  had  been  taught  to  under- 
stand. So  they  stand  before  us  in  '  Lothair.'  Those  whom 
Elysian  pleasures  could  not  satisfy  were  weary  of  the  rolling 
hours,  and  for  want  of  occupation  are  seen  drifting  among 
the  seductions  of  the  Roman  harlot ;  while  from  below 
the  surface  is  heard  the  deep  ground-tone  of  the  Euro- 
pean revolution,  which  may  sweep  them  all  away.  We 
have  no  longer  the  bombast  and  unreality  of  the  revolu- 
tionary epic.  Disraeli  has  still  the  same  subject  before 
him,  but  he  treats  it  with  the  mellow  calmness  of  matured 
experience.  He  writes  as  a  man  of  the  world,  with  perfect 
mastery  of  his  material,  without  a  taint  of  ill-nature — with  a 
frank  perception  of  the  many  and  great  excellences  of  the 
patrician  families,  of  the  charm  and  spirit  of  the  high-born 
matrons  and  girls,  of  the  noble  capabilities  of  their  fathers 
and  brothers,  paralysed  by  the  enchantment  which  con- 
demns them  to  uselessncss.  They  stand  on  the  canvas  like 
the  heroes  and  heroines  ofVandyck;  yet  the  sense  never 


'lotiiair'  219 

loaves  us  that  they  arc  but  flowers  of  the  hothouse,  artifi- 
cially forced  into  splendour,  with  no  root  in  outer  nature, 
and  therefore  of  no  continuance. 

The  period  of  the  story  was  the  immediate  year  in 
which  Disraeli  was  writing.  The  characters,  though  in  hut 
few  instances  portraits  of  living  men  and  women,  were 
exactly,  even  ludicrously,  true  to  the  prevailing  type.  We 
are  introduced  on  the  first  page  into  a  dukery  the  grandest 
of  its  kind  ;  the  owner  of  it,  the  duke,  being  too  great  to 
require  a  name,  while  minor  dukes  move  like  secondary 
planets  in  the  surrounding  ether. 

The  duke  has  but  one  sorrow — that  he  has  no  home, 
his  many  palaces  requiring  a  periodic  residence  at  each. 
He  is  consoled  each  morning  in  his  dressing-room,  when  he 
reviews  his  faultless  person,  by  the  reflection  that  his  family 
were  worthy  of  him.  The  hero  is  an  ingenuous,  pure-minded 
youth,  still  under  age,  though  fast  approaching  his  majority, 
the  heir  of  enormous  possessions,  which,  great  as  they  de- 
scended from  his  father,  have  been  increased  to  fabulous 
proportions  by  the  progress  of  the  country.  His  expectations 
rather  oppress  than  give  him  pleasure,  for  he  is  full  of 
generous  aspirations,  to  which  he  knows  not  how  to  give 
effect.  He  feels  only  that  his  wealth  will  give  him  boundless 
powers  for  good  or  evil,  and  all  that  his  natural  piety  and 
simplicity  can  tell  him  is  that  he  ought  to  do  something  good 
with  it.  In  an  ordinary  novel,  a  youth  so  furnished  would 
be  the  natural  prey  of  scheming  mothers.  Disraeli  makes 
him  the  intended  victim  of  a  far  more  subtle  conspiracy. 
His  rank  is  vaguely  indicated  as  only  second  to  that  of  the 
duke  himself.  An  absurd  and  unnatural  consequence 
attaches  to  him  in  society,  and  he  is  marked  as  a  prey  by 
the  power  which  aims  at  recovering  England  to  the  Church 


220  LORD   EEACONSFTELD 

of  Rome  by  the  conversion  of  lords  and  ladies.  He  is 
exposed  to  temptation  through  the  innocence  of  his  nature. 
Of  his  guardians,  one  is  a  Scotch  Presbyterian  earl,  narrow, 
rugged,  and  honest ;  the  other,  a  distinguished  clergyman  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  an  early  friend  of  his  father,  who  has 
'  gone  over '  to  Rome,  risen  to  high  rank,  and  is  at  the  head 
of  the  English  Mission.  The  personality  of  this  eminent 
man  is  visibly  composed  of  the  late  Cardinal  Wiseman  and 
his  successor,  who  is  still  present  among  us,  and  is  so 
favourably  known  by  his  exertions  for  the  improvement 
of  the  people.  The  function  of  Cardinal  Grandison,  as 
Disraeli  represents  him,  is  the  propagation  of  Catholic  truth 
among  patrician  circles.  He  has  operated  successfully  on 
young  and  beautiful  countesses,  who,  in  turn,  have  worked 
upon  their  husbands. 

The  first  converts  of  the  apostles  were  the  poor  and  the 
unknown.  The  Cardinal's  superficial,  but  not  altogether 
groundless,  calculation,  was  that  if  he  could  convert  earls  and 
countesses,  the  social  influence  of  those  great  persons  would 
carry  the  nation  after  them.  Lothair,  with  his  enormous 
fortune,  would  be  a  precious  acquisition.  His  boyhood  had 
been  spent  in  Scotland,  and,  through  his  guardians'  pre- 
cautions, the  Cardinal  has  no  opportunities  of  influencing 
him — indeed,  had  scarcely  seen  him.  They  meet  when  he 
enters  the  world.  Their  connection  places  them  on  terms 
of  immediate  intimacy,  and  the  web  is  spun  round  the 
fly  with  exquisite  skill.  Lothair  is  naturally  religious,  and 
no  direct  attempts  are  made  upon  his  faith.  Theological  dif- 
ferences are  treated  with  offhand  ease;  but  he  finds  himself 
imperceptibly  drawn  into  Catholic  society.  Accomplished 
Monsignori  are  ever  at  his  side.  Great  ladies  treat  him  with 
affectionate  confidence,  and  he  is  delighted  with  an  element 


'LOTHAIR.'  22  1 

where  the  highest  breeding  is  sanctified  by  spiritual  devotion. 
More  delicate  attractions  are  brought  to  bear — a  lovely  girl, 
so  angelic  that  she  is  intended  for  a  convent,  lets  him  see 
that  her  destiny  may,  perhaps,  be  changed  if  she  can  find  a 
husband  with  a  spirit  like  her  own.  Lothair  sinks  rapidly 
under  the  combination  of  enchantments.  An  immense 
balance  lies  at  his  bankers,  the  accumulations  of  his  minority. 
His  conversations  with  Miss  Arundel  convince  him  that  he 
must  build  a  cathedral  in  London  with  it.  It  never  occurred 
to  him  — nobody  had  even  suggested  to  him — that  his  rent- 
rollentailed  responsibilities  towards  the  thousands  of  working 
families  who  were  his  own  dependents,  and  by  whose  toil 
that  wealth  had  been  created.  To  build  a  cathedral,  at  any 
rate,  would  be  a  precious  achievement — whether  Catholic 
or  Protestant  might  be  decided  when  it  was  completed.  He 
was,  himself,  the  only  person  who  seemed  ignorant  which  it 
was  to  be. 

The  spell  which  was  cast  by  a  lady,  could  be  broken 
only  by  another  lady's  hand.  Before  Lothair  is  finally  sub- 
dued, accident  brings  him  in  contact  with  Theodora,  the 
wife  of  a  rich  American,  dazzlingly  beautiful,  the  incarnation 
of  the  Genius  of  the  European  revolution,  to  which  her 
devotion  is  as  intense  as  that  of  Miss  Arundel  to  the 
Catholic  Church.  Two  emotional  impulses  divide  at  present 
the  minds  of  the'  passionate  and  the  restless.  The  timid  see 
salvation  only  in  the  reunion  of  Christendom  and  the  re- 
turning protection  of  the  Virgin.  The  bold  and  generous, 
weary  of  the  cants,  the  conventionalisms,  and  unrealities  of 
modern  life,  fling  themselves  into  the  revolutionary  torrent, 
which  threatens  the  foundations  of  existing  civilisation. 

In  the  convulsions  of  1848,  the  revolutionary  societies 
had  shaken  half  the  thrones  in   Europe.      Disraeli,  whose 


222  LORD    BEACONSFIELD 

vision,  unlike  that  of  most  contemporary  statesmen,  was 
not  limited  to  the  coming  session,  but  looked  before  and 
after,  had  watched  these  two  tendencies  all  through  his  life, 
well  aware  that  they  would  have  more  to  do  with  the  future 
of  mankind  than  the  most  ingenious  Parliamentary  man- 
ceuvrings.  While  Premier  he  had  learnt  much  of  the 
working  of  the  republican  propaganda  in  France,  Germany, 
and  Russia.  In  the  Irish  Conspiracy,  Catholic  priests  had 
been  found,  curiously,  co-operating  with  American  Fenians. 
Particular  persons  had  fallen  under  his  notice  who  were  un- 
known to  the  outside  world.  At  the  moment  when  Lothair's 
future  is  hanging  in  the  balance,  he  is  led  into  relation  with 
the  fascinating  representative  of  the  revolutionary  spirit. 
Theodora,  whom  Disraeli  evidently  likes  better  than  any 
one  else  in  the  book,  had  been  devoted  from  childhood  to 
the  cause  of  liberty.  Her  father  and  brothers  had  been 
killed  in  the  fights  of  1S48.  She  herself,  an  orphan  and  an 
exile,  had  wandered  to  Paris,  had  sung  in  the  streets,  had 
been  received  into  the  secret  associations,  where,  for  her 
beauty  and  her  genius,  she  had  been  regarded  as  a  tutelary 
saint. 

Pure  as  snow,  Theodora  had  no  thought  but  for  the  cause. 
The  women  worshipped  her,  the  men  idolised  her.  Like 
Rachel,  she  had  electrified  the  Paris  mob  by  starting  forward 
at  a  great  moment,  and  singing  the  '  Marseillaise.'  She  was 
the  Mary  Anne  of  the  universal  conspiracy  against  the  existing 
tyranny  which  was  called  order,  and  a  word  from  her  at  any 
moment  could  kindle  the  fire  into  a  blaze.  At  the  moment 
when  this  lady,  an  idealised  Margaret  Fuller,  is  introduced 
upon  the  scene,  her  thoughts  are  concentrated  on  the  delivery 
of  Rome  from  the  Papacy.  Thus  simultaneously  the  two 
enthusiasms  were  centred  on  the  same  spot.     The  Catholic 


'lothair'  223 

devotees  were  dreaming  of  the  reunion  of  Christendom. 
Pio  Nono  was  to  summon  an  Ecumenical  Council  which 
was  to  be  the  greatest  event  of  the  century.  To  the  revo- 
lutionists  Rome  was  the  mystic  centre  of  European  liberty. 
Rome  being  once  free,  and  the  detested  priests  made  an 
end  of,  the  Genius  of  Evil  would  spread  its  wings  and  depart, 
and  mankind  would  at  last  be  happy.  Louis  Napoleon  was 
the  uncertain  element  in  the  situation.  Would  he  continue 
to  support  the  Pope,  or  leave  him  to  his  fate? 

The  two  parties  watched  each  other,  waiting  the  decision, 
and  Theodora  and  her  husband  are  in  England,  living  at 
Belmont,  a  villa  on  the  edge  of  Wimbledon,  with  an  artistic 
and  intellectualcircle  of  friends.  Here  Lothair  is  introduced. 
He  finds  himself  in  an  atmosphere  delightful,  yet  entirely 
strange  to  him,  presided  over  by  a  divine  being.  The  lady 
is  ten  wars  older  than  himself,  on  the  best  terms  with  her 
American,  and  without  further  room  in  her  heart  for  any  but 
ideal  objects.  Disraeli  contrives,  with  extraordinary  skill,  to 
let  the  fascination  exercise  its  full  power  without  degenerat- 
ing into  a  vulgar  intrigue.  All  is  airy  and  spiritual.  Lothair 
was  on  the  edge  of  becoming  a  Catholic,  because  'society 
ought  to  be  religious.'  Theodora  is  as  '  religious  '  as  Miss 
Arundel,  but  with  a  religion  independent  of  dogma.  He 
confides  in  her,  tells  her  of  his  struggles,  confesses  his  de- 
votion to  herself.  When  his  passion  takes  too  warm  a  tone 
she  gently  waives  it  aside  with  a  grace  which  intensifies  the 
affection  without  allowing  it  to  degrade  itself. 

Cardinal  Grand ison  and  his  countesses  are  watching  for 
their  council,  which  is  to  be  the  '  event  of  the  century.'  To 
Lothair  the  great  'event'  is  his  own  coming  of  age,  and 
the  celebration  of  it  at  his  magnificent  castle.  Dukes  and 
earls,  bishops  and  cardinals,  Monsignori  and  English  clergy, 


224  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

sheriffs  and  county  magistrates,  gather  at  Muriel  for  the 
occasion,  and  Theodora  and  her  husband  are  specially- 
invited  guests.  All  that  is  loyallest  and  brightest  in  the 
English  nation  is  brought  out  in  Lothair's  welcome  to  his 
inheritance.  The  object  is  to  show  the  unadulterated 
respect  which  still  remains  for  our  great  nobles,  the  future 
which  is  still  within  their  reach  if  they  know  how  to  seize 
it — a  respect,  however,  tinged  slightly  with  artificiality  and 
unreality  in  the  exaggeration  of  the  outward  splendour. 
As  a  by-play,  the  chiefs  of  the  two  Churches  continue  their 
struggle  for  Lothair's  soul.  The  '  Bishop,'  a  well-known 
prelate  of  those  days,  and  a  college  friend  of  Cardinal 
Grandison  before  their  creed  bad  divided  them,  now 
meet  in  the  lists,  followed  by  their  respective  acolytes. 
The  Bishop  and  the  Anglican  countesses  arrange  an  early 
'  celebration '  in  the  chapel,  where  Lothair  is  to  renew  his 
vows  to  the  Church  of  his  fathers.  The  Catholics  look  at 
it  as  a  magical  rite,  which  may  spoil  the  work  which  they 
are  hoping  to  accomplish.  The  sureness  of  foot  with 
which  Disraeli  moves  in  these  intricate  labyrinths,  the  easy 
grace  with  which  the  various  actors  play  their  parts,  might 
tempt  one  to  forget  what  a  piece  of  gilded  tinsel  it  all  is,  but 
for  the  disbelieving  interjections  of  common  sense  from  less 
devout  spectators.  St.  Aldegonde,  the  most  attractive  of  all 
the  male  characters  in  the  book,  a  patrician  of  the  patricians 
and  the  heir  of  a  dukedom,  affects  Radicalism  of  the  reddest 
kind.  Bored  with  the  emptiness  of  an  existence  which  he 
knows  not  how  to  amend,  a  man  who  in  other  times  might 
have  ridden  beside  King  Richard  at  Ascalon,  or  charged 
with  the  Black  Prince  at  Poitiers,  lounges  through  life  in 
good-humoured  weariness  of  amusements  which  will  not 
amuse,  and   outrages   conventionalism  by  his   frank   con- 


'lothair'  225 

tempt  for  humbug.  Him  they  had  not  dared  to  invite  to  be 
present  at  the  'celebration.'  On  a  Sunday  morning,  when 
the  party  generally  were  observing  the  ordinary  proprieties, 
he  appears  in  the  breakfast-room  in  rough  and  loose  week- 
day costume,  pushes  his  hands  through  his  dishevelled  locks, 
and  exclaims,  as  he  stands  before  the  fire,  regardless  of  the 
Bishop's  presence,  '  How  I  hate  Sundays  ! '  The  Bishop 
makes  a  dignified  retreat.  When  St.  Aldegonde's  wife  gently 
reproves  him,  he  adds  impenitently  to  his  sins,  saying,  'I 
don't  like  bishops,  I  don't  see  the  use  of  them  ;  but  I  have 
no  objection  to  him  personally.  I  think  him  an  agreeable 
man,  not  at  all  a  bore.  Just  put  it  right,  Bertha,'  &c.  St. 
Aldegonde  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  a  young  English  noble, 
who  will  not  cant  or  lie  ;  the  wisest  and  truest  when  counsel 
or  action  is  needed  of  him,  yet  with  his  fine  qualities  all 
running  to  waste  in  a  world  where  there  is  no  employment 
for  them. 

Neither  Bishop  nor  Cardinal  secure  their  prey.  Theo- 
dora carries  the  day.  The  French  withdraw  from  Rome  ; 
she  has  secret  information  that  they  are  not  to  return,  and 
that  the  secret  societies  are  ready  to  move.  The  opportunity 
has  arrived.  Nothing  is  wanted  but  arms  and  money.  The 
cathedral  is  abandoned,  the  accumulations  of  Lothair's 
minority  are  thrown  into  Theodora's  hands,  and  he  himself 
enters  into  the  campaign  for  the  liberation  of  Rome. 

A  republican  general,  who  has  been  incidentally  seen 
before,  a  friend  of  Mazzini  and  Garibaldi,  now  appears  on 
the  scene.  I  mm  Muriel  wc  pass  to  an  Italian  valley  on 
the  Roman  frontier,  where  a  force  is  collecting  to  join 
Garibaldi  and  advance  on  the  Holy  City.  Theodora  is  in 
the  camp.  Rome  itself  is  read)-  to  rise  on  the  first  glinting 
of  their  lances.     The  General  moves  forward,  and  fights  and 

Q 


226  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

wins  a  battle  at  Viterbo  ;  but  in  the  moment  of  victory  all 
is  lost.  Louis  Napoleon  has  changed  his  mind,  and  the 
French  return  ;  a  stray  shot  strikes  Theodora,  and  mortally 
wounds  her.  The  sound  of  the  guns  at  Civita  Vecchia 
saluting  the  arrival  of  the  French  ships  reaches  her  ears  as 
she  hangs  between  life  and  death.  Her  heart  breaks  ;  her 
last  words  are  to  tell  Lothair  that  'another  and  a  more 
powerful  attempt  will  be  made  to  gain  him  to  the  Church  of 
Rome,'  and  she  demands  and  obtains  a  promise  from  him 
that  '  he  will  never  enter  that  communion.' 

When  he  wrote  'Coningsby '  and  '  Sybil,'  Disraeli  regretted 
the  Reformation.  The  most  ardent  admirer  of  the  Middle 
Ages  did  not  regard  the  overthrow  of  the  ecclesiastical  rule, 
and  the  suppression  of  the  religious  houses,  with  more  dis- 
pleasure, or  believed  more  devotedly  in  the  virtues  of  the 
abbots  and  the  beneficent  working  of  the  monastic  system. 
In  his  '  Life  of  Lord  George  Bentinck '  he  had  so  far 
changed  his  mind  that  he  refuses  to  Roman  Catholic  the 
dignity  of  capital  letters.  Twenty  additional  years  of  ex- 
perience had  taught  him  that  the  modern  Roman  hierarchy 
was  as  unscrupulous  as  the  Reformers  had  described  their 
predecessors,  and  that,  of  the  many  dangers  which  threatened 
England,  there  was  none  more  insidious  than  the  intrigues 
of  ultramontane  proselytisers. 

The  battle  of  Mentana  follows,  and  Garibaldi's  defeat 
by  the  French.  Lothair  is  shot  down  at  the  General's  side, 
and  is  left  for  dead  on  the  field.  Being  found  breathing, 
he  is  taken  up  with  the  other  wounded.  His  English 
Catholic  friends  are  in  Rome  for  the  winter,  and  devote 
themselves  to  the  care  of  the  hospitals.  An  Italian  woman 
brings  word  to  Miss  Arundel  that  one  of  her  countrymen 
is  lying  at  the  point  of  death,  who  may  be  recovered  if  she 


•lothair'  227 

takes  charge  of  him.  He  is  found  to  be  Lothair,  and  the 
opportunity  is  seized  for  a  thaumaturgical  performance  as 
remarkable  as  the  miracle-working  at  Lourdes.  The  woman 
who  brought  the  account  is  discovered,  by  a  halo  round  her 
head,  to  have  been  the  Virgin  in  person  ;  Lothair,  unknown  to 
himself,  to  have  fallen  not  as  a  Garibaldian  but  as  a  volunteer 
in  the  Papal  army.  He  is  carried,  unconscious,  to  the 
enchanter's  cave,  in  the  shape  of  a  room  in  the  Agostini 
Palace.  He  is  watched  over  while  in  danger  by  a  beautiful 
veiled  figure.  He  is  surrounded  in  convalescence  by  adroit 
Monsignori,  and  prevailed  on  to  assist  in  a  ceremony  which 
is  represented  to  him  as  a  mere  thanksgiving  for  his  recover)-, 
but  in  which  he  finds  himself  walking  first  in  a  procession, 
candle  in  hand,  at  Miss  Arundel's  side,  she  and  he  the  special 
objects  of  the  Virgin's  care.  The  next  morning  the  whole 
performance  is  published  in  full  in  the  '  Papal  Gazette,' 
and  his  Cardinal  guardian  then  appears  on  the  stage,  to  tell 
him  that  he  is  '  the  most  favoured  of  men,'  and  that  the 
Holy  Father  in  person  will  immediately  receive  him  into 
the  Church. 

Too  weak  from  illness  to  express  his  indignation  in  more 
than  words,  he  protests  against  the  insolent  deceit.  No- 
where in  English  fiction  is  there  any  passage  where  the 
satire  is  more  delicate  than  in  the  Cardinal's  rejoinder. 
Lothair  opens  a  window  into  Disraeli's  mind,  revealing 
the  inner  workings  of  it  more  completely  than  anything  else 
which  he  wrote  or  said.  For  this  reason  I  have  given  so 
many  pages  to  the  analysis  of  it,  and  must  give  one  or  two 
more. 

'"I  know  there  arc  two  narratives  of  your  relations  with 
the  battle  of  Mcnlana,"  observed  the  Cardinal,  quietly. 
"  The  one  accepted  as  authentic  is  that  which  appears  in  this 

Q  2 


228  LORD  BEACONSFIELD 

Journal  ;  the  other  account,  which  can  only  be  traced  to 
yourself,  has,  no  doubt,  a  somewhat  different  character. 
But  considering  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  improbable, 
and  that  there  is  not  a  tittle  of  collateral  or  confirmatory 
evidence  to.  extenuate  its  absolute  unlikelihood,  I  hardly 
think  you  are  justified  in  using,  with  reference  to  the  state- 
ments in  this  article  the  harsh  expressions  which  I  am  per- 
suaded on  reflection  you  will  feel  you  have  hastily  used." 

'  "I  think,"  said  Lothair,  with  a  kindling  eye  and  a  burning 
cheek,  "  that  I  am  the  best  judge  of  what  I  did  at  Mentana." 

'  "  Well,  well,"  said  the  Cardinal,  with  dulcet  calmness, 
"  you  naturally  think  so  ;  but  you  must  remember  you  have 
been  very  ill,  my  dear  young  friend,  and  labouring  under 
much  excitement.  If  I  was  you — and  I  speak  as  your 
friend — I  would  not  dwell  too  much  on  this  fancy  of  yours 
about  the  battle  of  Mentana.  I  would,  myself,  always  deal 
tenderly  with  a  fixed  idea.  Nevertheless,  in  the  case  of  a 
public  event,  a  matter  of  fact,  if  a  man  finds  that  he  is  of 
one  opinion,  and  all  orders  of  society  of  another,  he  should 
not  be  encouraged  to  dwell  on  a  perverted  creed.  Your  case 
is  by  no  means  an  uncommon  one.  It  will  wear  off  with 
returning  health.  King  George  IV.  believed  he  commanded 
at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  and  his  friends  were  at  one  time 
a  little  alarmed  ;  but  Knighton,  who  was  a  sensible  man, 
said,  '  His  Majesty  has  only  to  leave  off  Curacoa,  and,  rest 
assured,  he  will  gain  no  more  victories.'  Remember,  sir, 
where  you  are.  You  are  in  the  centre  of  Christendom, 
where  truth,  and  alone  truth,  resides.  Divine  authority  has 
perused  tin's  paper,  and  approved  it.  It  is  published  for  the 
joy  and  satisfaction  of  two  hundred  millions  of  Christians, 
and  for  the  salvation  of  all  those  who,  unhappily  for  them- 
selves, are  not  yet  converted  to   the  faith.     It  records  the 


'  LOTHAIR  '  229 

most  memorable  event  of  this  century.  Our  Blessed  Lady 
has  personally  appeared  to  her  votaries  before  during  that 
period,  but  never  at  Rome  ;  wisely  and  well  she  has  worked 
in  villages,  as  did  her  Divine  Son.  But  the  time  is  now  ripe 
for  terminating  the  infidelity  of  the  world.  In  the  Eternal 
City,  amid  all  its  matchless  learning  and  profound  theology, 
in  the  Night  of  thousands,  this  great  act  has  been  accom- 
plished in  a  manner  which  can  admit  of  no  doubt  and  lead 
to  no  controversy.  Some  of  the  most  notorious  atheists  of 
Rome  have  already  solicited  to  be  admitted  to  the  offices  of 
the  Church.  The  secret  societies  have  received  their  death- 
blow. I  look  to  the  alienation  of  England  as  virtually  over. 
I  am  panting  to  see  you  return  to  the  home  of  your  fathers, 
and  recover  it  for  the  Church  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  God 
of  Sabaoth.  Never  was  a  man  in  a  greater  position  since 
Godfrey  or  Ignatius.  The  eyes  of  all  Christendom  are 
upon  you,  as  the  most  favoured  of  men,  and  you  stand  there 
like  St.  Thomas." 

'  "  Perhaps  he  was  bewildered,  as  I  am,"  said  Lothair. 

'"Well,  his  bewilderment  ended  in  his  becoming  an 
apostle,  as  yours  will.  I  am  glad  we  have  had  this  conver- 
sation, and  that  we  agree.  I  knew  we  should.  To-morrow 
the  Holy  Father  will  himself  receive  you  into  the  bosom  of 
the  Church.  Christendom  will  then  hail  you  as  its  champion 
and  regenerator." ' 

Conscious  that  he  was  the  victim  of  a  lying  conspiracy, 
yet  as  if  his  will  was  magnetised,  he  finds  himself  driven  to 
the  slaughter,  'a  renegade  without  conviction.'  He  is 
virtually  a  prisoner,  but  he  contrives  at  night  to  pass  the 
LiI.m  c  gate,  wander  about  the  ghostly  city,  and  at  last  into 
the  Coliseum,  where  BenvenutO  Cellini  had  seen  a  vision  of 
devils,  and   Lothair  imagines  that   he   sees  Theodora,  who 


230  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

reminds  him  of  her  warning.  He  is  brought  back,  senseless, 
by  a  spiritual  sleuth-hound  who  had  been  sent  after  him  ; 
and  the  result  was,  that  on  the  morning  which  was  to  have 
made  the  unfortunate  Lord  of  Muriel  a  Papist  against  his 
will,  he  is  visited  by  an  English  doctor,  '  who  abhorred 
priests,  and  did  not  particularly  admire  ladies.'  He  is 
ordered  instant  change  of  scene,  and  is  sent  to  Sicily — still 
in  the  custody  of  '  familiars' ;  but  he  evades  their  vigilance, 
embarks  in  a  fishing-boat,  reaches  Malta  and  an  English 
yacht — and  thenceforward  his  fortunes  brighten  again.  He 
visits  the  Greek  islands.  Of  course  he  must  go  to  Jerusalem 
— all  Disraeli's  heroes  who  want  spiritual  comfort  are  sent 
to  Jerusalem — not,  however,  any  longer  to  see  visions  of 
angels,  but  to  find  a  '  Paraclete '  in  a  Syrian  Christian  from 
the  Lake  of  Gennesaret,  an  Ebionite  of  the  primitive  type, 
whose  religion  was  a  simple  following  of  Christ. 

In  recovered  health  of  mind  and  body,  Lothair  returns 
to  England,  where  he  finds  the  world  as  he  had  left 
it.  He  supposes  his  adventures  would  be  on  everyone's 
lips.  His  acquaintances  ask  him,  coolly,  what  he  has  been 
doing  with  himself,  and  how  long  he  has  been  in  town. 
The  Cardinal  is  again  gliding  through  the  gilded  drawing- 
rooms,  but  ignores  the  Roman  incident  as  if  it  had  never 
been.  Miss  Arundel  subsides  into  her  sacred  vocation. 
The  hero,  freed  from  further  persecution,  marries  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  the  duke,  who  had  been  the  object 
of  his  boyish  affection  — a  lad}-,  needless  to  say,  of  staunchest 
Protestant  integrity. 

Such  is  '  Lothair,'  perhaps  the  first  novel  ever  written  by 
a  man  who  had  previously  been  Prime  Minister  of  England. 
Every  page  glitters  with  wit  or  shines  with  humour.  Special 
scenes  and  sentences  arc  never  to  be  forgotten  :  the  Tourna- 


'LOTIIAIR'  2U 


ment  of  Doves  at  the  Putney  Villa,  where  the  ladies  gather 
to  see  their  lords  at  their  favourite    summer  amusement; 
the  wounded  blue  rock,   which  was  contented   to  die  by 
the   hand  of  a  duke,  but  rose  and  fluttered  over  a  paling, 
disdaining    to    be    worried    by    a    terrier;    the    artist    who 
hesitates  over  a  mission  to  Egypt,  but  reflects  that  no  one 
has  ever  drawn  a  camel,  and  that,  if  he  went,  a  camel  would 
at  last  be  drawn  ;  the  definition  of  critics — as  those  who 
had  failed    in    literature   and    art.       But  the  true  value  of 
the  book  is  the  perfect  representation  of  patrician  society  in 
England    in   the  year  which  was   then  passing    over ;    the 
full  appreciation  of  all  that  was  good  and  noble  in  it ;  yet 
the  recognition,  also,  that  it  was  a  society  without  a  purpose, 
and  with  no  claim  to  endurance.     It  was  then  in  its  most 
brilliant  period,  like  the  full  bloom  of  a  flower  which  opens 
fully  only  to  fade. 


233  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The  exhausted  volcanoes— Mr.  Gladstone's  failure  and  unpopularity— 
Ireland    worse   than    before— Loss   of  influence    in    Europe— The 
election   of   1874— Great    Conservative   majority— Disraeli   again 
Prime  Minister  with  real  power— His  general   position  as  a  politi- 
cian—Problems waiting  to  be  dealt  with— The  relations   between 
the  Colonies  and  the  Empire— The  restoration  of  the  authority  of  the 
law  in  Ireland— Disraeli's  strength  and  Disraeli's  weakness— Prefers 
an  ambitious   foreign    policy— Russia   and    Turkey— The    Eastern 
Question— Two  possible  policies  and  the  effects  of  each— Disraeli's 
choice  —  Threatened  war  with   Russia— The  Berlin  Conference- 
Peace  with  honour — Jingoism  and  fall  of  the  Conservative  party — 
Other  features  of  his  administration— Goes  to  the  House  of  Lords  as 
Earl  of  Beaconsfield  and  receives  the  Garter— Public  Worship  Act 
— Admirable    distribution  of    patronage  —  Disraeli  and    Carlyle  — 
Judgment  of  a  conductor  of  an  omnibus. 

The  destinies  were  fighting  for  Disraeli.  The  exhausted 
volcanoes  continued  on  the  Treasury  bench  ;  but  England 
had  grown  tired  of  them.  They  had  been  active  when 
their  activity  had  been  mischievous.  In  quiescence  they 
had  allowed  the  country  to  become  contemptible.  The 
defeat  of  France  and  the  establishment  of  a  great  German 
empire  had  changed  the  balance  of  power  in  Europe. 
England  had  not  been  consulted,  and  had  no  voice  in 
the  new  arrangements.  Russia  took  advantage  of  the 
confusion  to  tear  up  the  black  Sea  Treaty,  and  throw  the 
fragments  in  our  faces.    The   warmest   Radical   enthusiast 


CONSERVATIVE   REACTION  233 

could  not    defend  the  imbecility  with   which   the  outrage 
was  submitted  to.     A  Minister  was  sent  to   Paris   to  inform 
Prince  Bismarck  that,  if  Russia  persisted,  we  should  go  to 
war.     When  Russia  refused  to  be  frightened,  the  uncertain 
Premier  said  in  Parliament  that  the  Minister  had  exceeded 
his  instructions.     It  appeared,  on  inquiry,  that  the  instruc- 
tions had  not  been  exceeded,  but  that  nothing  had  been 
meant  but  an  idle  menace,  which  had  failed  of  its  effect. 
The  English  people,  peculiarly  sensitive  about  the  respect 
paid  to  their  country  abroad,  because  they  feel   that   it   is 
declining,  resented  the  insult  from  the  Russians  upon   the 
Cabinet,  which  was  charged  with  pusillanimity.     The  settle- 
ment  of  the   Alabama   claims,   though  prudent  and  right, 
was  no  less  humiliating.     The  generous  policy  which  was 
to  have   won  the   Irish  heart    had  exasperated    one    party 
without    satisfying    the   other.      The  third  branch   of    the 
upas    tree  still  waited   for  the   axe.      The    minds   even  of 
Radicals  could  not  yet  reconcile  themselves  to  the  terms 
of  a   concordat   which   would   alone   satisfy   the   Catholic 
hierarchy.     The   Premier,  deceived  by  the  majority  which 
still    appeared    to    support    him,    disregarded    the    rising 
murmurs.     He  had  irritated  powerful  interests  on  all  sides, 
from   the  army  to  the  licensed  victuallers  ;  while  of  work 
achieved  he  had  nothing  to  show  but  revolutionary  measures 
in     Ireland,    which    had    hitherto    been    unattended    with 
success.      The   bye-elections    showed   with    increasing  dis- 
tinctness  the  backward    swing  of   the  political   pendulum, 
and  very  marked  indeed  at  this  time  was  the  growth  of  the 
personal  popularity  of  Disraeli.     At  least,  he  had  made  no 
professions,   and   had  ventured  no  extravagant  prophecies. 
He   had   always   stood  up   staunchly  for  the  honour  of  his 
country,      brief  as  had  been   his  opportunities  of  office,  he 


234  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

had  accomplished,  after  all,  more  positive  practical  good  than 
his  rivals  who  boasted  so  loudly.  Their  function  had  been 
to  abolish  old-established  institutions,  and  the  effect  had 
been  but  a  turn  of  the  kaleidoscope— 7a  new  pattern,  and 
nobody  much  the  better  for  it.  Disraeli  had  been  contented 
with  a  'policy  of  sewage,'  as  it  was  disdainfully  called.  He 
had  helped  to  drain  London  ;  he  had  helped  to  shorten  the 
hours  of  children's  labour.  His  larger  exploit  had  been  to 
bring  the  Jews  into  Parliament,  and  to  bring  under  the 
crown  the  government  of  India.  Sensible  people  might 
question  the  wisdom  of  his  Reform  Bill,  but  he  had  shown, 
at  any  rate,  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  the  people  ;  and  the 
people,  on  their  side,  were  proud  of  a  man  who  had  raised 
himself  to  so  high  a  place  in  the  face  of  thirty  years- of 
insult  and  obloquy.  His  position  was  the  triumph  of  the 
most  respectable  of  Radical  principles — the  rule  to  him  that 
deserves  to  rule.  They  came  to  call  him  Dizzy  ;  and  there 
is  no  surer  sign  that  a  man  is  liked  in  England  than  the 
adoption  of  a  pet  name  for  him.  His  pungent  sayings  were 
repeated  from  lip  to  lip.  He  never  courted  popular 
demonstrations,  but  if  he  was  seen  in  the  streets  he  was 
followed  by  cheering  crowds.  At  public  meetings  which 
had  no  party  character  he  was  the  favourite  of  the  hour. 
At  a  decorous  and  dignified  assembly  where  royalties  were 
present,  and  the  chiefs  of  both  political  parties,  I  recollect 
a  burst  of  emotion  when  Disraeli  rose  which,  for  several 
minutes,  prevented  him  from  speaking,  the  display  of 
feeling  being  the  more  intense  the  lower  the  strata  which 
it  penetrated,  the  very  waiters  whirling  their  napkins  with 
a  passion  which  I  never  on  any  such  occasion  saw  exceeded 
or  equalled. 

Mr.  Gladstone  was  inattentive  to  the  symptoms  of  the 


DISRAELI   RETURNS   TO   ROWER  235 

temper  of  the  people,  and  proceeded  with  his  Irish  Educa- 
tion gill.  The  secularist  Radicals  were  dissatisfied  with  a 
proposal  which  gave  '  too  much  power  to  the  Catholic 
priests.  The  Court  of  Rome  and  the  Irish  bishops  were 
dissatisfied  because  it  did  not  give  enough.  Impatient  of 
opposition,  .Mr.  (dadstone  punished  Parliament  with  a  dis- 
solution, and  was  astonished  at  the  completeness  of  his 
overthrow. 

For  the  first  time  since  1S41  a  strong  Conservative 
majority  was  returned,  independent  of  Irish  support — a 
majority  large  and  harmonious  enough  to  discourage  a  hope 
oT  reducing  it  either  by  intrigue  or  by  bye-elections. 
England,  it  really  seemed,  had  recovered  from  her  revolu- 
tionary fever-fit,  and  desired  to  be  left  in  quiet  after  half- 
a-century  of  political  dissipation.  Seven  or  six  years  ot 
Conservative  administration  were  now  secured.  There 
were  those  who  shook  their  heads,  disbelieved  in  any 
genuine  reaction  till  lower  depths  had  been  reached,  and 
declared  that  'it  was  only  the  licensed  victuallers.'  Mr. 
( iladstone's  long  Parliamentary  experience  led  him  to  think 
that,  at  any  rate,  it  would  last  out  the  remainder  of  his  own 
working  life,  and  that  his  political  reign  was  over.  Disraeli 
had  taken  Fortune's  buffets  and  Fortune's  favours  with  equal 
composure,  and  had  remained  calm  under  the  severest 
discomfitures.  Mr.  Gladstone  retired  from  the  leadership 
of  the  Liberal  party,  and  left  Lord  Hartington  to  repair  the 
consequences  of  his  own  precipitancy.  'Power,5  the  Greek 
proverb  says,  'will  show  what  a  man  is.'  Till  this  time 
i  Israeli  had  held  office  but  on  sufferance.  He  was  now 
trusted  by  the  country  with  absolute  authority,  and  it 
remained  to  be  seen  what  he  would  make  of  it.  1  le  could  do 
what  he  pleased,     lie  could  dictate  the  foreign  and  colonial 


236  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

policy.  He  was  master  of  the  fleet  and  the  army.  He  had 
made  himself  sovereign  of  England,  so  long  as  his  party 
were  true  to  him  ;  and  the  long  eclipse  through  which  he 
had  conducted  them  to  eventual  triumph  guaranteed  their 
fidelity.  He  had  won  his  authority,  not  by  the  favour  of  a 
sovereign,  not  by  having  been  the  champion  of  any  powerful 
interest,  but  by  the  personal  confidence  in  himself  which 
was  felt  by  the  body  of  the  people. 

He  was  now  to  show  whether  he  was  or  was  not  a  really 
great  man.  In  his  early  career  he  had  not  concealed  that 
his  chief  motive  was  ambition.  He  had  started  as  a  soldier 
of  fortune,  and  he  had  taken  service  with  the  party  among 
whom,  perhaps,  he  felt  that  he  would  have  the  best 
chance  of  rising  to  eminence.  Young  men  of  talent  were 
chiefly  in  the  other  camp — among  the  Conservatives  he 
might  expect  fewer  rivals.  But  the  side  which  he  had 
chosen  undoubtedly  best  suited  the  character  of  his  own 
mind ;  under  no  circumstances  could  Disraeli  have  been  a 
popular  apostle  of  progress,  or  have  taught  with  a  grave 
face  the  doctrines  of  visionary  freedom.  He  regarded  all 
that  as  nonsense,  even  as  insincere  nonsense,  not  believed 
in  even  by  its  advocates.  On  all  occasions  he  had  spoken 
his  mind  freely,  careless  what  prejudice  he  might  offend. 
Even  on  the  abolition  of  slavery,  on  which  English  self- 
applause  was  innocently  sensitive,  he  alone  of  public  men 
had  dared  to  speak  without  enthusiasm.  The  emancipation 
of  the  negroes,  he  said  in  a  debate  upon  the  sugar  trade, 
'  was  virtuous  but  was  not  wise.'  Politics  was  his  profession, 
and  as  a  young  barrister  aspires  to  be  Lord  Chancellor 
Disraeli  aspired  to  rise  in  the  State.  He  had  done  the 
Conservatives'  work,  and  the  Conservatives  had  made  him 
Prime    Minister  ;   but  he   had  committed   himself  to   few 


PRIME    MINISTER  237 

definite  opinions,  and,  unlike  most  other  great  men  who  had 
attained  the  same  position,  he  was  left  with  a  comparatively 
free  hand.  Lord  Burghley  was  called  to  the  helm  to  do  a 
definite  thing  ;  to  steer  his  country  through  the  rocks  and 
shoals  of  the  Reformation.  His  course  was  marked  out 
for  him,  and  the  alternatives  were  success  or  the  scaffold. 
Disraeli  had  the  whole  ocean  open,  to  take  such  course  as 
might  seem  prudent  or  attractive.  There  was  no  special 
measure  which  he  had  received  a  mandate  to  carry  through, 
no  detailed  policy  which  he  had  advocated  which  the  country 
was  enabling  him  to  execute.  He  was  sincerely  and  loyally 
anxious  to  serve  the  interests  of  the  British  Empire  and 
restore  its  diminished  influence,  but  in  deciding  what  was  to 
be  done  it  was  natural  that  he  would  continue  to  be  guided 
by  an  ambition  to  make  his  Ministry  memorable,  and  by  the 
cosmopolitan  and  oriental  temperament  of  his  own  mind. 

Two  unsettled  problems  lay  before  him  after  his  Cabinet 
was  formed,  both  of  which  he  knew  to  be  of  supreme  im- 
portance. Jreland,  he  was  well  aware,  could  not  remain  in 
the  condition  in  which  it  had  been  left  by  his  predecessors. 
The  Land  Act  of  1870  had  cut  the  sinews  of  the  organisa- 
tion under  which  Ireland  had  been  ruled  since  the  Act  of 
Settlement.  The  rights  of  owners  were  complicated  with 
the  rights  of  tenants,  and  the  tenants  had  been  taught  that 
by  persevering  in  insubordination  they  might  themselves 
become  the  owners  altogether.  The  passions  of  the  Irish 
nation  had  been  excited  ;  they  had  been  led  to  believe  that 
the  late  measures  were  a  first  step  towards  the  recovery  of 
their  independence.  Seeds  of  distraction  had  been  sown 
broadcast,  which  would  inevitably  sprout  at  the  first  favour- 
able season.  A  purely  English  Minister  with  no  thought 
but  for  English  interests,  and  put  in  possession  of  sufficient 


233  LORD    BEACONSFIELD 

power  to  make  himself  obeyed,  would,  I  think,  have  seized 
the  opportunity  to  reorganise  the  internal  government  of 
Ireland.  The  land  question  might  have  been  adjusted  on 
clear  and  equitable  lines,  the  just  rights  secured  of  owners 
and  occupiers  alike.  The  authority  of  the  law  could  have 
been  restored,  nationalist  visions  extinguished,  and  a  per- 
manent settlement  arrived  at  which  might  have  lasted  for 
another  century.  No  one  had  said  more  emphatically  than 
Disraeli  that  the  whole  system  of  Irish  administration 
demanded  a  revolutionary  change.  He  was  himself  at  last 
in  a  position  to  give  effect  to  his  own  words.  This  was  one 
great  subject.  The  other  was  the  relation  of  the  colonies  to 
the  mother  country.  In  the  heyday  of  Free  Trade,  when 
England  was  to  be  made  the  workshop  of  the  world,  the 
British  Empire  had  been  looked  on  as  an  expensive  illusion. 
The  colonies  and  India  were  supposed  to  contribute  nothing 
to  our  wealth  which  they  would  not  contribute  equally  if 
they  were  independent,  while  both  entailed  dangers  and 
responsibilities,  and  in  time  of  war  embarrassment  and 
weakness.  A  distinguished  Liberal  statesman  had  said  that 
the  only  objection  to  parting  with  the  colonies  was  that 
without  them  England  would  be  so  strong  that  she  would 
be  dangerous  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  These  doctrines, 
half  avowed,  half  disguised  under  specious  pleas  for  self- 
government,  had  been  acted  on  for  a  number  of  years  by 
the  Liberal  authorities  at  the  Colonial  Office.  The  troops 
were  recalled  from  New  Zealand,  Canada,  and  Australia. 
Constitutions  were  granted  so  unconditional,  so  completely 
unaccompanied  with  provisions  for  the  future  relations  with 
the  mother  country,  that  the  connection  was  obviously 
intended  to  have  an  early  end.  These  very  serious  steps 
were  taken  by  a  few  philosophical  statesmen  who  happened 


PRIME    MINISTER  239 

to  be  in  power  without  that  consultation  with  the  nation 
which  ought  to  have  preceded  an  action  of  such  large  con- 
sequence. The  nation  allowed  them  to  go  on  in  unsus- 
picious confidence,  and  only  woke  to  know  what  had  been 
done  when  the  dismemberment  of  the  Empire  came  to  be 
discussed  as  a  probable  event.  One  is  tempted  to  regret 
that  the  old  forms  of  ministerial  responsibility  have  gone  out 
of  fashion.  They  might  have  served  as  a  check  on  the  pre- 
cipitancy of  such  over-eager  theorists.  The  country,  when 
made  aware  of  what  had  been  designed,  spoke  with  a  voice 
so  unanimous  that  they  disclaimed  their  intentions,  sheltered 
themselves  behind  the  necessity  of  leaving  the  colonies  to 
manage  their  own  affairs,  and  assured  the  world  that  they 
desired  nothing  but  to  secure  colonial  loyalty  ;  but  these 
hasty  measures  had  brought  about  a  form  of  relation  which, 
not  being  designed  for  continuance,  had  no  element  of  con- 
tinuance in  it  ;  and  the  ablest  men  who  desire  the  main- 
tenance of  the  Empire  are  now  speculating  how  to  supply 
the  absence  of  conditions  which  might  have  been  insisted 
on  at  the  concession  of  the  colonial  constitutions,  but  which 
it  is  now  too  late  to  suggest. 

Disraeli's  attention  had  been  strongly  drawn  to  this 
question.  He  was  imperialist  in  the  sense  that  he  thought 
the  English  the  greatest  nation  in  the  world  and  wished  to 
keep  them  so.  At  the  Crystal  Palace  in  1S72  he  had 
spoken  with  contempt  and  indignation  of  the  policy  which 
had  been  followed,  and  had  indicated  that  it  would  be  the 
duty  of  the  Conservatives  as  far  as  possible  to  remedy  the 
effects  of  it.  His  words  show  that  he  thought  a  remedy 
not  impossible,  and  it  is  worth  while  to  quote  them. 

'Gentlemen,'  he  said,  'if  you  look  to  the  history  of  ibis 
country  since  the  advent  of  Liberalism  forty  years  ago  you 


240  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

will  find  there  has  been  no  effort  so  continuous,  so  subtle, 
supported  by  so  much  energy,  and  carried  on  with  so  much 
ability  and  acumen  as  the  attempts  of  Liberalism  to  effect 
the  disintegration  of  the  Empire  of  England.  And,  gentle- 
men, of  all  its  efforts  this  is  the  one  which  has  been  the 
nearest  to  success.  Statesmen  of  the  highest  character, 
writers  of  the  most  distinguished  ability,  the  most  organised 
and  efficient  means  have  been  employed  in  this  endeavour. 
1  'It  has  been  proved  to  all  of  us  that  we  have  lost  money 
by  our  colonies.  It  has  been  shown  with  precise,  with 
mathematical  demonstration  that  there  never  was  a  jewel  in 
the  crown  of  England  that  was  so  truly  costly  as  the  pos- 
session of  India.  How  often  has  it  been  suggested  that  we 
should  at  once  emancipate  ourselves  from  this  incubus  ? 
Well,  that  result  was  nearly  accomplished.  When  those 
subtle  views  were  adopted  by  the  country  under  the  plausible 
plea  of  granting  self-government  to  the  colonies  I  confess 
that  I  myself  thought  that  the  tie  was  broken.  Not  that  I, 
for  one,  object  to  self-government.  I  cannot  conceive  how 
our  distant  colonies  can  have  their  affairs  administered 
except  by  self-government.  But  self-government,  in  my 
opinion,  when  it  was  conceded  ought  to  have  been  conceded 
as  part  of  a  great  policy  of  imperial  consolidation.  It  ought 
to  have  been  accompanied  with  an  imperial  tariff,  by  securi- 
ties for  the  people  of  England  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  un- 
appropriated lands  which  belonged  to  the  sovereign  as  their 
trustee,  and  by  a  military  code  which  should  have  precisely 
defined  the  means  and  the  responsibilities  by  which  the 
colonies  should  be  defended,  and  1))-  which,  if  necessary, 
this  country  should  call  for  aid  from  the  colonies  themselves. 
It  ought,  further,  to  have  been  accompanied  by  some  repre- 
sentative council  in  the  metropolis  which  would  have  brought 


PRIME   MINISTER  241 

the  colonies  into  constant  and  continuous  relations  with  the 
home  Government.  All  this,  however,  was  omitted  because 
those  who  advised  that  policy — and  I  believe  their  convictions 
were  sincere — looked  upon  the  colonies  of  England,  looked 
even  upon  our  connection  with  India,  as  a  burden  on  this 
country,  viewing  everythingjn_ a  financial  aspect,  and  totally 
passing  by  those  moral  and  political  considerations  which 
make  nations  great  and  by  the  influence  of  which  alone  men 
are  distinguished  from  animals. 

'  Well,  what  has  been  the  result  of  this  attempt  during 
the  reign  of  Liberalism  for  the  disintegration  of  the  Empire  ? 
It  has  entirely  failed.  But  how  has  it  failed  ?  Through 
the  sympathy  of  the  colonies  with  the  mother  country. 
They  have  decided  that  the  Empire  shall  not  be  destroyed ; 
and  in  my  opinion  no  Minister  in  this  country  will  do  his  duty 
who  neglects  any  opportunity  of  reconstructing  as  much  as 
possible  our  colonial  empire  and  of  responding  to  those 
distant  sympathies  which  may  become  the  source  of  incalcu- 
lable strength  and  happiness  to  this  land.' 

A  few  persons,  perhaps  many,  had  hoped  from  these 
words  that  Disraeli,  when  he  came  into  power  again,  would 
distinguish  his  term  of  rule  by  an  effort  which,  even  if  it  failed 
by  immediate  result,  would  have  strengthened  the  bonds 
of  good  feeling,  and  if  it  succeeded,  as  it  might  have  done, 
would  have  given  him  a  name  in  the  world's  history  as  great 
as  Washington's.  Difficult  such  a  task  would  have  been, 
for  the  political  and  practical  ties  had  been  too  completely 
severed  ;  but  the  greatness  of  a  statesman  is  measured  by 
the  difficulties  which  he  overcomes.  Whether  it  was  that 
Disraeli  felt  that  he  was  growing  old,  and  that  he  wished 
to  signalise  his  reign  by  more  dazzling  exploits  which  would 
promise  immediate  results;  whether  it  was  that  he  saw  the 

R 


242  LORD   BEACONSFIELL 

English  nation  impatient  of  the  lower  rank  in  the  counsels 
of  Europe  to  which  it  had  been  reduced   by  the  foreign 
policy  of  his  predecessors,  that  he  conceived  that  the  people 
would  respond  to  his  call  and  would  repay  a  Tory  Govern- 
ment which  was  maintaining  the  honour  of  the  country  by  a 
confirmed  allegiance  ;  whether  there  was  something  in  his 
own  character  which  led  him,  when  circumstances  gave  him 
an  opening,  to  prefer  another  course  to  that  which  he  had 
sketched  in  the  words  which  I  have  quoted  ;  or  whether — 
but  it  is  idle  to  speculate  upon  motives.     He  is  said  to  have 
believed  that  there  was  a  Conservative  Trade  Wind  which 
would   blow  for  many   years  ;  he  may    have  thought  that 
Ireland  and  the  colonies  might  lie  over  to  be  dealt  with  at 
leisure.     '  Ceux  qui  gouvernent,'  says  Voltaire,  '  sont  rarc- 
ment  touches  d'une  utilite  eloignee,  tout  sensible  qu'elle  est, 
surtout  quand  cet  avantage  futur  est  balance  par  les  diffi- 
cultes  presentes.'     The  two  great  problems  which  he  could 
have,  if  not  settled,  yet  placed  on  the  road  to  settlement,  he 
decided  to  pass  by.    He  left  Ireland  to  simmer  in  confusion. 
His  zeal  for  the  consolidation  of  the  Empire  was  satisfied 
by  the  new  title  with  which  he  decorated  his  sovereign.    And 
his  Administration  will  be  remembered  by  the  part  which  he 
played  in  the  Eastern  question,  and  by  the  judgment  which 
was  passed  upon  him  by  the  constituencies.     Disraeli  par- 
ticularly prided  himself  on   his  knowledge  of  the  English 
character.     He  had  seen  that  no  Ministers  were  ever  more 
popular  in  England  than  the  two  Pitts  ;  and  they  were  popu- 
lar because  they  maintained  in  arms  the  greatness  of  their 
country.    He  had  seen  Lord  Palmerston  borne  triumphantly 
into  power  to  fight  Russia,  and  rewarded  for  the  imperfect 
results  of  the  Crimean  war  with  a  confidence  which  was 
continued  till  his  death.     But  in  these  instances  there  had 


THE    RUSSO-TURKISII    WAR  243 

been,  or  had  seemed  to  be,  a  real  cause  which  the  nation 
understood   and   approved.      Lord  Chatham  was  winning 
America  for  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.     His  son  was  defending 
the  independence  and  commerce  of  England  against  the 
power  of  Bonaparte.     And  Lord  Palmerston  had  persuaded 
the  country  that  its  safety  was  really  threatened  by  Russian 
preponderance.     Disraeli  strangely  failed  to  perceive  that 
times  were  changed,  that  the  recollections  of  the  Crimean 
war  no  longer  excited  enthusiasm,  that  it  was  no  longer  pos- 
sible to  speak  of  Turkey  with  a  serious  face  as  the  '  bulwark 
of  civilisation  against  barbarism.'    He  was  right  in  supposing 
that  his  party  would  go  along  with  him,  and  that  of  the  rest  the 
scum  and  froth  would  be  on  his  side.     The  multitude  would 
shout  for  war  out  of  excitement,  and  for  war  with  Russia 
because  Russia  was  a  Power  with  which  they  supposed  we 
could   fight  with  a   chance   of  success.     But   the   serious 
thought  of  the  nation,  which  always  prevails  in  the  end,  was 
against  him  and  he  could  not  perceive  it.     The  English 
bishops  persuaded  Henry  V.  to  pursue  his  title  to  the  crown 
of  France  to  detach  him  from  schemes  of  Church  reform. 
Louis  Napoleon  attacked  Germany  to  save  his  own  shaking 
throne.     Disraeli  hoped  to  cool  the  Radical  effusiveness  by 
rousing  the  national  pride.     The  barren  conquests  of  Henry 
prepared  the  way  for  the  wars  of  the  Roses.    Louis  Napoleon 
brought    only    ruin    upon    himself.       Disraeli    failed,  as  he 
deserved  to  fail.     He  thought  that  he  was  reviving  patriotic 
enthusiasm,  and  all  that  he  did  was  to  create  jingoism. 

Of  the  lens  of  thousands  who  gathered  in  Hyde  Park 
to  shout  for  war  how  many  had  considered  what  a  war  with 
Russia  might  involve?  Bismarck  could  not  understand 
Disraeli's  attitude.  'Why  cannot  you  be  friends  with 
Russia  and  settle  your  differences  peacefully?'  he  said  to 

R  2 


244  Lord  beac'onsfieli; 

him  at  the  beginning  of  the  dispute.  '  Why  not  put  an  end 
once  for  all  to  this  miserable  Turkish  business,  which 
threatens  Europe  every  year  or  two  with  war  ?  '  Why  not, 
indeed  ?  Russian  interests  and  English  interests  divide  the 
continent  of  Asia.  These  two  Powers  between  them  are 
engaged  in  the  same  purpose  of  bringing  the  Eastern  nations 
under  the  influence  of  Western  civilisation.  It  would  be  a 
misfortune  to  humanity  if  either  they  or  we  should  cease 
our  efforts.  The  world  smiles  when  we  complain  of  Russian 
aggression.  The  Asiatic  subjects  of  the  Queen  of  England 
are  two  hundred  millions.  The  Asiatic  subjects  of  Russia 
are  forty  millions.  The  right  on  both  sides  is  the  right  of 
conquest. 

They  have  annexed  territories  and  we  have  annexed 
territories.  Annexations  are  the  necessary  results  of  the 
contact  of  order  with  anarchy.  If  we  work  together  the 
regeneration  of  Asia  may  proceed  peacefully  and  benefi- 
cently. If  we  quarrel  in  earnest,  as  things  now  stand,  the 
whole  enormous  continent  will  be  split  into  factions,  nation 
against  nation,  tribe  against  tribe,  family  against  family. 
From  the  Eosphorus  to  the  Wall  of  China,  and  perhaps 
inside  it,  there  will  be  an  enormous  faction-fight,  with  an 
amount  of  misery  to  mankind  of  which  no  recorded  war  has 
produced  the  like.  It  will  be  a  war,  too,  which  can  lead  to 
no  atoning  results.  England  staggers  already  under  the 
vastness  of  her  responsibilities,  and  even  if  she  conquers 
can  undertake  no  more.  That  we  might  not  conquer  is  an 
eventuality  which  our  pride  may  refuse  to  entertain  ;  yet  such 
a  thing  might  happen,  and  if  we  are  defeated  we  are  a  lost 
nation.  Russia  might  recover,  but  we  could  not ;  a  disaster 
on  the  Dardanelles  or  the  Afghan  frontier  would  cost  us  our 
Indian  Empire. 


RUSSIA   AND    ENGLAND  245 

In  such  a  war  we  stand  to  lose  all  and  to  gain  nothing, 
while  in  itself  it  would  be  nothing  less  than  a  crime  against 
mankind.  We  are  told  that  a  cordial  co-operation  with 
Russia  is  impossible.  It  will  not  be  made  more  possible  by 
a  quarrel  over  Turkey.  Yet  to  a  peaceful  arrangement  we 
must  come  at  last  if  the  quarrel  is  not  to  be  pursued  till  one 
or  other  of  us  is  destroyed.  These  are  the  broad  facts  of  the 
situation,  to  which  the  fate  of  the  Principalities  or  of  the 
Bosphorus  itself  are  as  feathers  in  the  balance.  Disraeli,  in 
whose  hands  for  the  moment  the  tremendous  decision  rested, 
chose  to  overlook  them.  He  persevered  in  the  policy  of 
upholding  the  Turkish  Empire.  It  was  the  traditional  policy 
of  England,  and,  as  he  professed  to  consider,  the  most  con- 
sistent with  English  interests.  It  may  be  that  he  remem- 
bered also  that  the  Turks  had  befriended  his  own  race  when 
the  Russians  had  been  their  bitterest  enemies.  It  may  be 
that  something  of  his  early  vanity  still  lingered  in  him,  and 
that  he  was  tempted  by  the  proud  position  of  being  the 
arbiter  of  Europe.  But  fact  was  against  him.  Turkish  rule 
in  Europe  is  an  anachronism,  and  neither  force  nor  diplo- 
macy can  prevent  the  final  emancipation  of  Christian  nations 
from  Mahometan  dominion.  He  chose  a  course  which 
gave  him  for  a  moment  an  ephemeral  glory,  but  it  was  at 
the  cost  of  undoing  the  effects  of  his  whole  political  life, 
wrecking  again  the  party  which  he  had  reorganised  and 
giving  a  fresh  lease  of  power  to  the  revolutionary  tendencies 
which  threatened  the  dismemberment  of  the  Empire. 

The  Eastern  question  was  beginning  to  simmer  when 
Disraeli  came  into  power,  but  the  symptoms  had  not  yet 
become  acute  and  he  had  leisure  lor  internal  politics.  He 
desired  to  strengthen  Conservative  institutions.  Of  these 
the  Church  oi    England   ought   to    have  been  the  strongest, 


246  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

but  it  was  distracted  by  internal  disorders.  The  Romanising 
party  was  the  counterpart  of  Radicalism.  The  original  Trac- 
tarians  had  imagined  themselves  to  be  champions  of  old 
Tory  principles,  but  revolutionary  movements  draw  instinc- 
tively together.  Romanisers  and  Radicals  had  the  common 
belief  that  they  were  wiser  than  their  fathers,  that  they  must 
have  something  '  deeper  and  truer  than  satisfied  the  last 
century.'  The  reformers  of  the  State  wished  to  remodel 
the  Constitution,  the  Ritualists  to  restore  Church  principles 
and  bring  back  the  Mass.  The  Radical  chief  sympathised 
with  both  of  them.  They  returned  his  regard;  and  vast 
numbers  of  the  clergy  fell  off  from  their  old  allegiance. 

Disraeli,  keenly  as  he  observed  the  outer  features  of  the 
situation,  was  not  entirely  at  home  in  such  subjects.  He  did 
not  see  that  the  lay  members  of  the  Church,  who  had  once 
been  earnest  Protestants,  had  now  grown  indifferent  about  it. 
If  the  clergy  liked  to  amuse  themselves  with  altars  and  vest- 
ments and  elaborate  services  the  clergy  might  have  their  way 
for  all  that  the  laity  cared  about  the  matter.  Old  Tory 
families  still  hated  Puritans  and  Puritanism,  and  had  not 
realised  the  change  of  front  which  made  Protestants  Con- 
servatives and  Radicals  into  allies  of  the  Papacy.  Disraeli 
believed  that  an  Act  of  Parliament  could  check  a  tendency 
which  ran  in  a  current  where  legislation  could  not  reach.  He 
passed  a  Public  Worship  Act  to  put  down  ritualism,1  and  it 
has  been  scarcely  more  effective  than  Lord  John  Russell's 
demonstration  against  Papal  aggression.  This  disease  has 
not  been  checked  ;  acrimonious  lawsuits  promoted  by  a  few- 
antediluvian  Protestant  parishioners  have  failed,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  fail,  because  public  opinion  refuses  to  support  the  pro- 

1  It  should  be  said  that  the  Bill3  though  supported  by  Disraeli,  was 
introduced  by  the  Primate,  and  was  not  a  Cabinet  measure. 


RUSSIA   AND   ENGLAND  247 

moters.  Suffering  priests  and  bishops  pose  as  martyrs,  and 
there  is  unwillingness  to  punish  them.  By  the  Constitution 
the  Church  of  England  rests  on  an  Act  of  Parliament,  but 
sooner  than  effectively  use  its  controlling  power  Parliament 
will  consent  to  disestablishment.  The  Public  Worship  Act 
exasperated  the  enthusiastic  clergy  and  their  friends.  It 
secretly  offended  not  a  few  of  Disraeli's  aristocratic  followers. 
For  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  passed  it  was  as  ineffectual 
as,  to  use  President  Lincoln's  simile,  'a  Pope's  Bull  against 
a  comet,'  and  demonstrations  which  are  not  followed  by 
action  do  not  add  to  a  statesman's  influence. 

This,  however,  and  all  other  internal  subjects  lost  their 
interest  when  Servia  rose  against  the  Turks,  when  the 
Servian  defeat  brought  the  Russians  across  the  Danube, 
and  the  passions,  the  alarms,  the  panics  of  the  Crimean 
episode  revived  in  all  their  frenzy.  Circumstances  had 
altered.  England  had  no  longer  France  for  an  ally.  Turkey 
had  then  been  saved,  and  allowed  a  fresh  lease  of  life  on 
condition  of  mending  her  administration  and  behaving 
better  to  her  Christian  subjects.  Turkey  had  amended 
nothing,  and  could  amend  nothing.  So  far  as  Turkey  was 
concerned,  the  only  result  had  been  a  Turkish  loan,  and 
on  this  the  interest  had  ceased  to  be  paid.  Nevertheless 
the  familiar  cries  rose  again.  Our  old  ally  was  in  danger. 
The  1  Dardanelles  were  the  keys  of  India.  We  were  threatened 
on  the  Indus,  we  were  threatened  in  the  Mediterranean. 
Quiet  voices  could  get  no  hearing,  and  eloquence  could  be 
only  met  by  eloquence.  Mr.  Gladstone,  if  by  his  Irish  action 
he  had  let  loose  the  winds  at  home,  did  a  service  then  which 
must  be  remembered  to  his  honour.  lie  forced  the  country 
to  observe  what  the  rule  of  Turkey  meant,  lie  insisted,  not 
entirely  in  vain,  on  the  indignity,  the  shame,  the  dishonour 


248  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

which  we  should  bring  on  ourselves  by  taking  the  side  of 
the  Bulgarian  assassins.  He  succeeded  in  making  Disraeli 
pause  at  a  critical  time  and  preventing  measures  which 
might  have  led  to  an  immediate  conflict,  and  the  Turkish 
successes  at  Plevna  and  in  Armenia  seemed  for  a  time  to 
dispense  with  the  necessity  of  armed  interference.  The 
Turk,  it  was  hoped,  would  be  able  to  defend  his  provinces 
with  his  own  hand.  But,  as  Disraeli  said  truly,  the  English 
are  the  most  enthusiastic  people  in  the  world.  They  have 
an  especial  love  for  courage,  and  the  bravery  of  the  Turks 
in  the  field  made  them  forget  or  disbelieve  in  the  '  atrocities.' 
When  Kars  fell  and  Plevna  fell,  when  the  Russian  armies 
forced  the  Balkans  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  the  Ottoman 
resistance  collapsed,  the  storm  rose  again  into  a  hurricane. 
Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  '  Daily  News  '  stood  their  ground. 
Disraeli  waived  aside  the  horrible  story  of  Turkish  cruelties, 
as,  if  not  false,  yet  as  enormously  exaggerated.  Such  as  it 
was  the  ferocity  had  not  after  all  cut  deep  into  Bulgarian 
memories.  If  the  dead  have  any  knowledge  of  what  is  pass- 
ing upon  earth  he  must  laugh  in  his  grave  when  the  Bulgarian 
survivors  of  these  horrors  are  now  inviting  the  Turks  into 
an  alliance  with  them  against  their  Russian  deliverers. 
Deeds  of  violence  have  been  too  common  in  some  coun- 
tries to  make  a  deep  impression.  The  fugitive  Macdonalds 
from  Glencoe  were  lost  in  astonishment  :it  the  interest  which 
political  passion  had  created  in  the  murder  of  their  kins- 
men. Public  opinion,  so  far  as  it  expressed  itself  in  words, 
continued  strongly  in  Disraeli's  favour.  He  said  amidst 
general  applause  that  he  would  not  allow  Turkey  to  be 
crushed.  He  did  not  desire  war,  but  he  was  prepared  for 
war  if  the  Russians  entered  Constantinople,  and  on  two  occa- 
sions peace  hung  upon  a  thread.     A  plan  of  campaign  was 


THE   BERLIN    CONFERENCE  249 

formed,  not  for  local  resistance  but  for  war  on  an  universal 
scale.  The  British  fleet  went  up  within  sight  of  the  Golden 
Horn  to  cover  the  Turkish  capital.  Gallipoli  was  to  be 
occupied.  Turkestan  was  to  be  set  on  fire  through  the 
Afghan  country  ;  and,  I  believe,  so  ambitious  was  the  scheme, 
another  force  was  to  have  advanced  from  the  Persian  Gulf 
into  Armenia.  Not  all  the  Cabinet  were  prepared  for  these 
adventures.  Lord  Carnarvon  and  Lord  Derby  resigned,  and 
caused  some  passing  hesitation,  and  as  the  Russians  left 
Constantinople  unentered  that  particular  crisis  passed  away. 
But  the  Russian  conquerors  had  dictated  their  own  terms  of 
peace,  and  when  Disraeli  insisted  that  the  terms  should  not 
stand  till  they  had  been  revised  at  a  European  Conference 
England  again  applauded  and  admired.  He  determined  to 
attend  the  Conference  in  person,  and  the  remarkable  im- 
pression which  he  produced  there  was  the  culminating  point 
of  his  singular  career.  On  Prince  Bismarck,  who  respects 
firmness  more  than  eloquence,  it  was  an  impression  eminently 
favourable.  French  is  the  language  generally  used  at  the 
meetings  of  European  plenipotentiaries.  Disraeli  spoke 
French  tolerably,  and  had  prepared  a  French  address.  It 
was  represented  to  him,  however,  that  his  peculiar  power  of 
creating  an  effect  would  be  impaired  by  his  accent,  and 
he  spoke  actually  in  English.  There  were  two  points,  I 
believe,  on  which  the  peace  of  Europe  hung  in  the  balance, 
one  referring  to  Batoum,  which  was  not  to  he  fortified;  the 
other  to  the  division  of  the  two  Bulgarias,  which  the  treaty 
of  San  Stefano  had  joined.  Heavy  guns  are  now  mounted 
at  Batoum,  and  we  are  none  the  worse  for  it.  The  large 
Bulgaria,  so  much  dreaded,  has  become  a  fact  again,  with 
the  warm  approbation  of  the  anti-Russian  Powers.  Yet  on 
threads  so  slight  as  these  the  lives  or  deaths,   perhaps,  of 


250  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

millions  of  men  at  that  moment  depended.  After  a  stormy 
debate  on  the  Balkan  question  Disraeli  broke  up  the  Con- 
ference and  announced  that  he  should  return  home  and 
take  other  measures.  Russia,  at  Bismarck's  entreaty,  yielded 
a  point  which  had  no  substantial  significance.  Disraeli 
had  the  glory  of  extorting  a  concession  by  a  menace.  We 
imagine  that  the  days  are  past  when  nations  can  go  to  war 
for  a  point  of  honour,  but  we  are  no  wiser  than  our  fathers 
after  all. 

War,  however,  was  avoided,  and  Disraeli  had  won  his 
diplomatic  victory.     He  returned  to  London  in  a  blaze  of 
glory,  bringing  peace  with  honour,  and  all  the   world  sang 
the  praises  of  the  patriot    Minister.     He   thought  himself 
that  he  had  secured  the  ascendency  of  the  Conservatives  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century  at  least.     In    1876  he  had  passed 
from  the  leadership  of  the  House  of  Commons  to  the  House 
of  Lords,  reviving  in  an  earldom  the  title  which  he  had  given 
to  his  wife,  and  which  had  died  with  her.    He  now  received 
the  'Garter,  the  most  coveted  of  all  English  decorations,  be- 
cause bestowed  usually  of  free  grace  and  not  for  merit,  but 
for  him  the  reward  of  his  unequalled  services.    Yet  it  was 
all  hollow.     The  public  welfare,  the  public  security  of  the 
Empire  had  not  been  advanced  a  step.     Before  the  shouts 
had  died  away  we  were  astonished  by  a  secret  treaty  with 
Turkey,  by  which  we  had  bound  ourselves  to  the   future 
defence  of  her  Asiatic  dominions,  an  obligation  which  we 
shall  fulfil  as  much  and  as  little  as  we  fulfilled  a  similar 
obligation  to  Denmark.     We  had  bound  ourselves  to  secure 
a  better  administration  of  the  Turkish  provinces,  an  under- 
taking  which   we  cannot    fulfil ;  and  we  had  acquired  an 
addition  to  our  Empire  in  Cyprus,  a  possession  of  which  we 
can   make   no  use.     The  country  was  surprised,  and  not 


PEACE    WITH    HONOUR  25 1 

particularly  pleased,  but  on  the  whole  it  was  still  proud  and 
gratified,  and  if  Disraeli  had  dissolved  Parliament  when  he 
returned  from  Berlin  there  is  little  doubt  what  its  verdict 
would  then  have  been.  But  he  waited,  believing  himself 
secure  in  his  achievements,  and  Fortune,  which  had  stood  his 
friend  so  long,  now  turned  upon  him.  The  spirit  of  a  great 
nation  called  into  energy  on  a  grand  occasion  is  the  noblest 
of  human  phenomena.  The  pseudo-national  spirit  of 
jingoism  is  the  meanest  and  the  most  dangerous.  A  war  had 
been  lighted  in  Afghanistan  as  part  of  the  Eastern  policy. 
It  was  easier  to  kindle  than  to  extinguish.  Sir  Bartle  Frere 
in  South  Africa  imagined  that  he  too  could  have  an  Imperial 
policy.  He  went  to  war  with  the  Kaffirs.  He  went  to  war 
with  the  Zulus,  whom,  if  he  had  been  wise,  he  would  have 
helped  and  favoured  as  a  check  upon  the  ambition  of  the 
Boers.  A  British  regiment  was  cut  to  pieces.  The  Zulus 
in  expiation  were  shot  down  in  thousands  and  their  nation- 
ality extinguished.  Frere's  policy  was  his  own  ;  Lord 
Beaconsfield  was  not  responsible  for  it,  and  did  not  approve 
of  it.      Vet  the  war  went  on. 

The  Transvaal  had  been  annexed  against  the  will  of  the 
people.  Disraeli  had  fallen  before  that  measure  had  borne 
its  fruits,  but  he  lived  to  hear  of  Majuba  Hill  and  the 
ignominious  capitulation  in  which,  in  that  part  of  the  world 
also,  jingoism  came  to  its  miserable  end. 

The  grand  chance  had  been  given  to  English  Conser- 
vatism, and  had  been  lost  in  a  too  ambitious  dream.  Like 
drunkards  recovering  from  a  debauch  and  revolting  at  their 
own  orgies,  the  constituencies  once  more  recalled  the 
I:  idicals  to  power  with  a  fresh  impulse  to  the  revolutionary 
movement,  and  Disraeli  may  have  reflected  too  late  on  the 
usel  -  of  embarking  on  'spirited  policies,'  which  the 


252  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

next   swing   of  the   democratic    pendulum   may  reduce  to 
impotence. 

His    administration    was    not    useless.       Unambitious 
home  measures  were  passed  for  the  comfort  or  benefit  of 
the  people,   which    may  be  remembered   gratefully   when 
the  Berlin  Conference  is    forgotten.     His  patronage,  and 
especially  his  literary  and   art    patronage,  was  generously 
and  admirably  exercised.     John  Leech  had  for  twenty  years 
made  him  ridiculous  in  the  cartoons  in  'Punch.'    Leech  had 
a  pension  which  would  have  died  with  him.     Disraeli  con- 
tinued it  to  his  widow  and  his  children.     Most  notable  was 
his  recognition  of  the  duty  of  the  country  to  bestow  some 
public   honour  on  Thomas   Carlyle.       For  half  a  century 
Carlyle  had  worked  his  way  in  disregarded  poverty.  The  wise 
throughout  Europe  had  long  acknowledged  in  him  the  most 
remarkable  writer  of  his  age.     He  had  been  admired  for  his 
genius  and  reverenced  for  his  stern  integrity  ;  the  German 
Empire  had  bestowed  upon  him  its  most  distinguished  deco- 
ration ;  but  in  England  it  is  held  that  the  position  which  an 
eminent  man  of  letters  makes  for  himself  can  receive  no 
added  lustre  from  the  notice  of  the  Government ;  and  Carlyle 
had  been  left  severely  alone  in  his  modest  home  at  Chelsea 
under  all  the  changes  of  Administration,  while  peerages  and 
titles    were    scattered    among    the    brewers    and    the    City 
millionaires.     Disraeli,  who  was  a  man  of  intellect  as  well  as 
a  politician,  perceived  the  disgrace  which  would  attach  to  all 
parties  if  such  a  man  as  this  was  allowed  to  pass  away  as  one 
of  the  common  herd.     Carlyle,  indeed,  had  never  spoken  of 
him  except  with  contempt,  but  it  was  Disraeli's  special  credit 
that  while  he  never  forgot  a  friend  he  never  remembered  a 
personal  affront.     He  saw  at  once  that  no  common  pension 
or  decoration  at  so  late  an  hour  could  atone  for  the  long 


DISRAELI    AND   CARLYLE  253 

neglect.  In  a  letter  as  modest  as  it  was  dignified  he  implied 
that  he  did  not  offer  Carlyle  a  peerage  because  a  hereditary 
honour  would  be  a  mockery  to  a  childless  old  man  ;  but 
he  did  offer  in  the  Queen's  name,  and  pressed  him  to  accept, 
the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Bath,  a  distinction  never  before 
conferred  upon  any  English  author,  with  a  life  income  corre- 
sponding to  such  a  rank.  Carlyle  in  his  poorest  days  would 
never  have  accepted  a  pension.  Stars  and  ribands  had  no 
attraction  for  him  at  any  time,  and  less  than  none  when  he 
had  one  foot  in  the  grave.  He  declined,  but  he  was  sensible 
of  the  compliment,  and  was  touched  at  the  quarter  from 
which  it  came. 

'  Very  proper  of  the  Queen  to  offer  it,'  said  the  conductor 
of  a  Chelsea  omnibus  to  me,  '  and  more  proper  of  he  to  say 
that  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  'Tisn't  they  who 
can  do  honour  to  the  likes  of  he.'  But  Disraeli  saved  his 
country  from  the  reproach  of  coming  centuries,  when  Carlyle 
will  stand  among  his  contemporaries  as  Socrates  stands 
among  the  Athenians,  the  one  pre-eminently  wise  man  to 
whom  all  the  rest  are  as  nothing. 


254  LORD    13EACONSFIELD 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Retirement  from  office  —  Dignity  in  retreat  —  Hughenden  —  Lord 
Eeaconsfield  as  a  landlord — Fondness  for  country  life — '  Endymion' 
—  Illness  and  death — Attempted  estimate  of  Lord  Beaconsfield — A 
great  man  ?  or  not  a  great  man  ? — Those  only  great  who  can  forget 
themselves — Never  completely  an  Englishman — Relatively  great, 
not  absolutely — Gulliver  among  Lilliputians — Signs  in  'Sybil'  of  a 
higher  purpose,  but  a  purpose  incapable  of  realisation — Simplicity 
and  blamelessness  in  private  life — Indifference. to  fortune — Integrity 
as  a  statesman  and  administrator. 

'  Was  man  in  der  Jugend  wiinscht,  davon  hat  man  im  Alter 
die  Fiille  '  (What  one  desires  in  one's  youth  one  has  enough 
of  in  one's  age). 

Disraeli  had  won  it  all,  all  that  to  his  young  ambition  had 
seemed  the  only  object  for  which  it  was  worth  while  to  live. 
Yet  he  had  gained  the  slippery  height  only,  perhaps,  to  form 
a  truer  estimate  of  the  value  of  a  personal  triumph.  It  was 
his  to  hold  but  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  fell,  too  late  in 
life  to  retrieve  another  defeat.  When  the  shadows  lengthen 
and  the  sun  is  going  down,  earthly  greatness  fades  to  tinsel, 
and  nothing  is  any  longer  beautiful  to  look  back  upon  but 
the  disinterested  actions,  many  or  few,  which  are  scattered 
over  the  chequered  career.  Disraeli,  like  many  other  dis- 
tinguished men,  had  to  pay  the  penalty  of  his  character. 
A  fool  may  have  his  vanity  satisfied  with  garters  and 
peerages  ;  Disraeli  must  have  been  conscious  of  their 
emptiness. 


FATE   OF   THE   CONSERVATIVE   GOVERNMENT      255 

When  the  result  of  the  elections  of  1S80  was  known  he 
again  accepted  his  fate,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  had  done  six  years 
before,  without  waiting  for  the  meeting  of  Parliament.     He 
submitted  with  dignity,  though  with  the  fatal  consciousness 
that  at  his  age  he  could  not  hope  to  witness  a  reversal  of  the 
judgment  upon  him.     He  did  not  talk  petulantly  of  retiring 
from  politics.     He  took  his  place  again  as  leader  of  the 
Opposition  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  showed  no  signs  of 
weakened  power.      But  he  had  always  been  impatient  of 
the  details  of  business,  and  his  chief  pleasure  was  now  to 
retire    to    Hughenden,   with  or  without   companions,  most 
frequently  alone.     For  a  fortnight  together  he  would  remain 
there  in  solitude,  wandering  through  the  park  or  through  the 
Bradenham  woods,  which  in  his  youth  had  been  the  scene 
of  so  many  ambitions  or  moody  meditations.     His  trees, 
his  peacocks,  his  swans,  his  lake  and  chalk  stream  were  sadly 
associated  with  the  memories  of  his  married  life.     He  was 
so  fond  of  his  trees  that  he  directed  in  his  will  that  none  of 
them  should  be  cut  down.     He  was  on  pleasant  terms  with 
his  tenants  and  labourers  ;  he  visited  them  in  their  cottages, 
and  was  specially  kind  to  old  people  and  to  little  children. 
The  '  policy  of  sewage,'  with  which  he  had  been  taunted  as 
a  Minister,  was  his  practice  as  a  landlord.    No  dust-heaps,  or 
cesspools,  or  choked  drains,  or  damp  floors  were  to  be  seen 
among  the  Hughenden  tenements.    To  such  things  he  looked 
with  his  own  eyes,  and  he  said  he  never  was  so  happy  as 
when  left  to  himself  in  these  occupations. 

Of  his  reflections  at  this  period  some  maybe  found  here- 
after in  the  papers  which  he  bequeathed  to  Lord  Rowton. 
No  particular  traces  appear  in  the  last  literary  work  which  in 
his  final  leisure  he  contrived  to  accomplish,  lie  had  left 
'Endymion'  half  finished  when  he  took  office  in  1S74;  he 


256  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

went  on  with  it  when  office  had  left  him,  perhaps  because  he 
had  thought  himself  obliged  to  buy  a  house  in  London  on 
retiring  from  Downing  Street  and  wanted  money. 

There  is  nothing  remarkable  in  '  Endymion  '  except  the 
intellectual  vivacity,  which  shows  no  abatement.     It  is  in 
the  style  of  his  earlier  novels,  and  has  little  of  the  serious 
thought  which  is  so  striking  in  '  Sybil '  and  '  Lothair.'    There 
are  the  same  pictures  of  London  fashionable  life  and  fashion- 
able people,  in  the  midst  of  them  a  struggling  youth  pushing 
his  way  in  the  great  world,  and  lifted  out  of  his  difficulties, 
as  he  himself  had  been,  by  a  marriage  with  a  wealthy  widow. 
As  before  many  of  the  figures  are  portraits.      Myra,   the 
heroine,  impatient,  restless,  ambitious,  resolute  to  raise  her- 
self and  her  brother  above  the  injuries  of  fortune,  is  perhaps 
a  likeness  of  himself  in  a  woman's  dress.      But  the  calm 
mastery  of  modern  life,  the  survey,  wide  as  the  world,  of  the 
forces  working  in  English  society,  the  mellow  and  impartial 
wisdom  which  raises  '  Lothair  '  from  an  ephemeral  novel  into 
a  work  of  enduring  value,  all  this  is  absent.     It  is  as  if  dis- 
appointment had  again  clouded  his  superior  qualities  and 
had  brought  back  something   of  his  original  deficiencies. 
The  most  interesting  feature  in  '  Endymion  '  is  the  exact 
photograph  of  the  old  manor  house  at  Bradenham,  and  the 
description  of  the  feelings  with  which  a  fallen  and  neglected 
statesman  of  once  brilliant  promise  retired  there  into  unwel- 
come poverty.     Except  for  this  the  book  might  have  been 
unwritten  and  nothing  would  have   been  lost  of  Disraeli's 
fame.      It  throws    no  fresh  light  upon  his  own  character. 
He   wanted    money   and    it   brought   him    ten    thousand 
pounds. 

The  sand  ran  rapidly  out.     Lord  Beaconsfield  was  in  his 
place  at  the  opening  of  the  session  of  1881.     The  effects  of 


ILLNESS   AND   DEATH  257 

the  return  of  the  Liberal  party  were  already  visible  in  all 
parts  of  the  Empire.  He  spoke  with  something  of  his  old 
force  on  the  state  of  things  which  was  to  be  expected  in 
Ireland  He  spoke  on  India  and  foreign  politics.  He 
could  not  foresee  the  bombardment  of  the  Alexandrian  forts, 
the  conquest  of  Egypt,  to  be  followed  by  the  disgrace  of 
Khartoum.  He  escaped  the  mortification  of  the  surrender 
to  Russia  on  the  Afghan  frontier.  But  he  lived  to  hear  of 
the  conclusion  of  the  annexation  of  the  Transvaal.  He  saw 
the  enemies  of  England  again  at  their  work  across  St. 
George's  Channel,  and  a  Government  again  in  power  whose 
rule  was  to  purchase  peace  by  concession.  His  own  part 
was  played  out.  He  had  not  succeeded,  and  it  was  time  for 
him  to  be  gone.  In  the  middle  of  March  he  had  an  attack 
of  gout,  which  was  aggravated  by  a  cold.  At  first  no 
danger  was  anticipated,  but  he  grew  worse  day  after  day,  and 
on  the  19th  of  April  Benjamin  Disraeli  had  taken  his  last 
leave  of  a  scene  in  which  he  had  so  long  been  so  brilliant  an 
actor.  When  an  English  statesman  dies,  complimentary 
funeral  orations  are  spoken  over  him  in  Parliament  as  part 
of  the  ordinary  course  ;  but  Disraeli  had  been  so  uncommon 
a  man  that  the  displays  on  this  occasion  had  more  in  them 
than  they  often  have  of  genuine  sincerity.  He  had  been  so 
long  among  us  that  his  name  had  become  a  household  word. 
The  whole  nation,  of  all  shades  of  politics,  felt  that  a  man 
was  gone  whose  place  could  not  be  filled,  who  in  a  long  and 
chequered  career  had  not  only  won  his  honours  fairly  but 
deserved  affectionate  remembrance. 

He  was  infinitely  clever.  In  public  or  private  he  had  never 
done  a  dishonourable  action  ;  he  had  disarmed  hatred  and 
never  lost  a  personal  friend.  The  greatest  of  his  antagonists 
admitted  that  when   he  struck  hardest  he  had  not  struck  in 

s 


258  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

malice.     A  still  higher  praise  belongs  to  himself  alone — that 
he  never  struck  a  small  man. 

The  Abbey  was  offered,  and  a  public  funeral  ;  and  if 
honour  there  be  in  such  interments  he  had  an  ample  right 
to   it.    By  his  own  desire  he  was  buried  at   Hughenden, 
by  the  side  of  his  wife  and  the  romantic  friend  who  had 
conceived  so  singular  an  attachment  to  him.     There  those 
three  rest  side  by  side,  Disraeli  and  his  faithful  companion 
disguised  as  Earl  and  Viscountess,  but  thought  of  only  by 
the  present  generation  under  their  own  familiar  name,  and 
the  eccentric  and  passionate  widow  who  had  devoted  her 
fortune  to  him.     In  life  there  had  been  a  peculiar  bond 
between  these  three.    Disraeli  had  innumerable  admirers,  but 
there  were  not  many  to  whom  he  trusted  his  inmost  con- 
fidence.   Gratitude  was  stronger  in  him  even  than  ambition, 
and  as  to  his  wife  and  to  Mrs.  Willyams  he  owed  the  most, 
to  them,  perhaps,  he  was  most  completely  attached.      It 
was  a  strange  union,  but  they  had   strange  natures,  and 
they  lie  fitly  and  well  together — far  away  from  the  world, 
for  which  neither  of  them  cared,  in  a  quiet  parish  church  in 
Buckinghamshire. 

A  biography,  however  brief,  must  close  with  a  general 
estimate.     What  estimate  is  to  be  formed  of  Disraeli  ?     We 
have  a  standard  by  which  to  measure  the  bodily  stature  of 
a  man  ;  we  have  none  by  which  to  measure  his  character  ; 
neither  need  we  at  any  time  ask  how  great  any  man  is,  or 
whether  great  at  all,  but  rather  what  he  is.     Those  whom 
the  world  agrees  to  call  great  are  those  who  have  done  or 
produced  something  of  permanent  value  to  humanity.     We 
call  Hipparchus  great,  or  Newton,  or  Kepler,  because  we 
owe  to  them  our  knowledge  of  the  motion  of  the  earth  and 
the  stars.     Poets  and  artists  have  been  great  men  ;  philo- 


CONDITIONS   OF   HUMAN    GREATNESS  259 

sophers  have  been  great  men.  The  mind  of  Socrates  governs 
our  minds  at  the  present  day.  Founders  of  religion  have 
been  great  men  ;  reformers  have  been  great  men  :  we 
measure  their  worth  by  the  work  which  they  achieved.  So 
in  society  and  politics  we  call  those  great  who  have  devoted 
their  energies  to  some  noble  cause,  or  have  influenced 
the  course  of  things  in  some  extraordinary  way.  But  in 
every  instance,  whether  in  art,  science,  religion,  or  public 
life,  there  is  an  universal  condition,  that  a  man  shall  have 
forgotten  himself  in  his  work.  If  any  fraction  of  his  atten- 
tion is  given  to  the  honours  or  rewards  which  success  will 
bring  him  there  will  be  a  taint  of  weakness  in  what  he 
does.  He  cannot  produce  a  great  poem,  he  cannot  paint  a 
great  picture,  he  cannot  discover  secrets  of  science,  because 
these  achievements  require  a  whole  mind  and  not  a  divided 
mind.  The  prophet  will  be  a  prophet  of  half-truths,  because 
the  whole  truth  will  not  be  popular.  The  statesman  who 
has  not  purified  himself  of  personal  motives  will  never 
purify  a  disordered  Constitution.  Even  kings  and  con- 
querors who  are  credited  with  nothing  but  ambition — the 
Alexanders  and  the  Csesars,  the  Cromwells  and  Napoleons — 
have  been  a  cause  in  themselves,  have  been  the  representa- 
tives of  some  principle  or  idea.  Their  force,  when  they 
have  succeeded,  has  been  an  impulse  from  within.  They 
have  aimed  at  power  to  impress  their  own  personality  out- 
side them,  but  their  operations  are  like  the  operations  of  the 
forces  of  nature,  working  from  within  outwards  rather  than 
towards  an  end  of  which  they  have  been  conscious.  A 
man  whose  object  is  to  gain  something  for  himself  often 
attains  it,  but  when  his  personal  life  is  over  his  work  and 
his  reputation  perish  along  with  him. 

In    this   high   sense    of    the   word    Lord   Beaconsfield 

s  2 


260  LORD    BEACONSFIELD 

cannot  be  called  great,  either  as  a  man  of  letters  or  as  a 
statesman.  '  Vivian  Grey  '  is  nothing  but  a  loud  demand 
on  his  contemporaries  to  recognise  how  clever  a  man  has 
appeared  among  them.  In  every  one  of  his  writings  there 
is  the  same  defect,  except  in  '  Sybil '  and  in  '  Lothair.'  It  is 
absent  in  '  Sybil '  because  he  had  been  deeply  and  sincerely 
affected  by  what  he  had  witnessed  in  the  great  towns  in  the 
North  of  England ;  it  is  absent  in  '  Lothair '  because  when 
he  wrote  that  book  his  personal  ambition  had  for  the  time 
been  satisfied,  and  he  could  look  round  him  with  the 
siccum  lumen  of  his  intellect.  He  had  then  reached  the 
highest  point  of  his  political  aspiration,  and  money  he  did 
not  care  for  unless  required  for  pressing  necessities.  It  is 
clear  from  '  Sybil '  that  there  had  been  a  time  when  he 
could  have  taken  up  as  a  statesman,  with  aN  his  heart,  the 
cause  of  labour.  He  had  suffered  himself  in  the  suffering 
and  demoralisation  which  he  had  witnessed,  and  if  the 
'  young  generation '  to  whom  he  appealed  would  have  gone 
along  with  him  he  might  have  led  a  nobler  crusade  than 
Cceur  de  Lion.  But  it  was  not  in  him  to  tread  a  thorny  road 
with  insufficient  companionship.  He  had  wished,  but  had 
not  wished  sufficiently,  to  undertake  a  doubtful  enterprise. 
He  was  contented  to  leave  things  as  he  found  them,  instead 
of  reconstructing  society  to  make  himself  Prime  Minister. 

Thus  it  was  that  perhaps  no  public  man  in  Eng- 
land ever  rose  so  high  and  acquired  power  so  great,  so 
little  of  whose  work  has  survived  him.  Not  one  of  the 
great  measures  which  he  once  insisted  on  did  he  carry  or 
attempt  to  carry.  The  great  industrial  problems  are  still 
left  to  be  solved  by  the  workmen  in  their  own  unions. 
Ireland  is  still  in  the  throes  of  disintegration.  If  the 
colonies  have  refused  to  be  cast  loose  from  us  their  con- 


PERSONAL    CHARACTERISTICS  26 1 

tinued  allegiance  is  not  due  to  any  effort  of  his.  From 
Berlin  he  brought  back  peace  with  honour,  but  if  peace 
remains  the  honour  was  soon  clouded.  The  concessions 
which  he  prided  himself  on  having  extorted  are  evaded  or 
ignored,  and  the  imperial  spirit  which  he  imagined  that  he 
had  awakened  sleeps  in  indifference.  The  voices  which 
then  shouted  so  loudly  for  him  shout  now  for  another,  and 
of  all  those  great  achievements  there  remain  only  to  the 
nation  the  Suez  Canal  shares  and  the  possession  of  Cyprus, 
and  to  his  Queen  the  gaudy  title  of  Empress  of  India. 
What  is  there  besides  ?  Yet  there  is  a  relative  greatness  as 
well  as  an  absolute  greatness,  and  Lemuel  Gulliver  was  a 
giant  among  the  Lilliputians.  Disraeli  said  of  Peel  that  he 
was  the  greatest  member  of  Parliament  that  there  had  ever 
been.  He  was  himself  the  strongest  member  of  Parliament 
in  his  own  day,  and  it  was  Parliament  which  took  him  as  its 
foremost  man  and  made  him  what  he  was.  No  one  fought 
more  stoutly  when  there  was  fighting  to  be  done ;  no  one 
knew  better  when  to  yield,  or  how  to  encourage  his 
followers.  He  was  a  master  of  debate.  He  had  perfect 
command  of  his  temper,  and  while  he  ran  an  adversary 
through  the  body  he  charmed  even  his  enemies  by  the  skill 
with  which  he  did  it.  He  made  no  lofty  pretensions,  and 
his  aims  were  always  perhaps  something  higher  than  he  pro- 
fessed. If  to  raise  himself  to  the  summit  of  the  eminence 
was  what  he  most  cared  for,  he  had  a  genuine  anxiety  to 
serve  his  party,  and  in  serving  his  party  to  serve  his  country  ; 
and  possibly  if  among  his  other  gifts  he  had  inherited  an 
English  character  he  might  have  devoted  himself  more 
completely  to  great  national  questions  ;  he  might  have  even 
inscribed  his  name  in  the  great  roll  of  English  worthies. 
But  he  was  English  only  by  adoption,  and  he  never  com- 


262  LORD   BEACONSFIELD 

pletely  identified  himself  with  the  country  which  he  ruled. 
At  heart  he  was  a  Hebrew  to  the  end,  and  of  all  his  triumphs 
perhaps  the  most  satisfying  was  the  sense  that  a  member 
of  that  despised  race  had  made  himself  the  master  of  the 
fleets  and  armies  of  the  proudest  of  Christian  nations. 

But  though  Lord  Beaconsfield  was  not  all  which  he 
might  have  been  he  will  be  honourably  and  affectionately 
remembered.  If  he  was  ambitious  his  ambition  was  a 
noble  one.  It  was  for  fame  and  not  for  fortune.  To  money 
he  was  always  indifferent.  He  was  even  ostentatious  in  his 
neglect  of  his  own  interests.  Though  he  left  no  debts 
behind  him,  in  his  life  he  was  always  embarrassed.  He  had 
no  vices,  and  his  habits  were  simple  ;  but  he  was  generous 
and  careless,  and  his  mind  was  occupied  with  other  things. 
He  had  opportunities  of  enriching  himself  if  he  had  been 
unprincipled  enough  to  use  them.  There  were  times  when 
he  could  set  all  the  stock  exchanges  of  Europe  vibrating 
like  electric  wires  in  a  thunderstorm.  A  secret  word  from 
him  would  have  enabled  speculating  capitalists  to  realise 
millions,  with  no  trace  left  how  those  millions  were  acquired 
or  how  disposed  of.  It  is  said  that  something  of  the  kind 
was  once  hinted  to  him — once,  but  never  again.  Disraeli's 
worst  enemy  never  suspected  him  of  avarice  or  dishonour. 
As  a  statesman  there  was  none  like  him  before,  and  will  be 
none  hereafter.  His  career  was  the  result  of  a  combina- 
tion of  a  peculiar  character  with  peculiar  circumstances, 
which  is  not  likely  to  recur.  The  aim  with  which  he  started 
in  life  was  to  distinguish  himself  above  all  his  contem- 
poraries, and  wild  as  such  an  ambition  must  have  appeared, 
he  at  least  won  the  stake  for  which  he  played  so  bravely. 


263 


INDEX 


ADV 

Adventures  in  Spain,  30-35 
Afghanistan,  war  with,  251 
'Alabama'  claims,  the,  201, 
Albania,  36-40 

'  Alroy,'  an  Eastern  story,  45,  49 
Alvanlev,    Lord,    fight  with  O'Connell, 

62 
■American  Civi    War,  158,  159,  163,  183, 

194,  20 
Anecdote    of   the     Prince    of    \\  ales's 

wedding,  184,  185 
Angels,  on  the  side  of,  at  Oxford,  177 
Annexations,  244 
'Arabian  Nights,'  offer  to  edit,  64 
Aristocracy  of  England,   the,    86,     107, 

109,  112,  113,  187,  192-194,  217 
Arms,  186,  187 
Arta,  37 

Arundel,  Miss,  in  '  Lothair,'  226-230 
Athens,  40,  42 
Austen  family,  the,  20-24,  28,  48 

Baillie  Cochrane,  102 

Banditti  in  Spain,  30-34 

Bar,  Disraeli  and  the,  22,  24,  27 

Baring,  Sir  Thomas,  54-56 

Batoum,  249 

Beaconsfield,      Lord     (see      Benjamin 

Disraeli) 
Beckford  and  '  Alroy,'  49,  53 
Bentinck,  Lord  George,  140  ;  and  Peel, 

142-146;  death  of,  147  (see  also  'Life 

of  Lord  Bentinck ') 
Berlin  Conference,  249,  250,  252,  261 
Billault,  death  of,  185,  186 
Birth  and  early  days,  12-14,  °9 
Bismarck,  Prince,  and  Russia,  233  ;  243  ; 

and  Berlin  Conference,  249,  250 
Blessington,  Lady,  50,  52,  54,  108,  156 
Bolingbroke,  Lord,  97,  98 
Bradenham,  24,  25,  28,  34,  44,  58,  255, 

256 
Briggs,  Mr.,  43 
British  Empire,  the,  238-241,  244,  24  , 

250 
Buckle,  203 
Puller  (Yarde),  68 
Bulwer,  Lytton,  40,  491   51.   55 :    and 

Disraeli's  speeches,  65  ;  108 
Burdett,  Sir  K,  55  ;  and  O'Connell,  70 
Burghley,  Lord,  237 
Burke,  69 
Burns,  Robert,  187 

Byron  21,  23,  36,  65 


CON 

Cadiz,  32 

Campbell,  Sir  J.,  and  D.'s  maiden 
speech,  72,  73 

Canning,  death  of,  132  ;  lines  on  A 
Candid  Friend,'  134;  Peel  and,  143-146 

Carlton  Club,  60  ;  elected  at,  64  ;  dinner 
at  the,  68,  60 

Carlyle  on  Lord  Beaconsfield,  1  3,  130  ; 
'  Shooting  Niagara,'  1-3,  195  ;  and 
Reform,  55  ;  and  the  '  Disraeli ' 
science,  79  ;  and  the  Corn  Laws,  80 ; 
and  Jews,  84  ;  '  Past  and  Present,'  92, 
93 ;  and  Puseyism,  95  ;  and  Free 
Trade,  151  ;  on  Parliamentary  Reform, 
160  ;  and  '  Lothair,'  218  ;  honours  for, 

252>   253 

Carnarvon,  Lord,  195,  249 

Carriage  incident,  the,  89 

Carringtons,  the,  54-56 

Carthage,  the  Jews  in,  4 

Catholic  emancipation,   Peel  and,   131 

143-146  ;  203 
Catholic  question,  the,  22 
Chandos,  Lord,  57,  72 
Charles  I.  ami  Ireland,  60,  98,  102,  103 
Chartists  and  Chartism,  59 ;  petition  of 

1839,  85,  86,  93  ;  94,  101 
Chatham,  Lord,  243 
'  Childe    Harold '    compared    to   '  Con- 

tarini,'  46,  49 
Christianity,  169-172 
Church   of   England,  revival  of,  94-99, 

102  ;  and  State,  170-177  ;  200,  204,  306 

245-247 
Church  of  Ireland,  the,  204-211 
Civil  War  in  America,  158,  159,  163,  183, 

194,  201 
Clay,  James,  35,  36 
Cobden,  Mr.,  81,  82;  and  Free  Trade, 

136 ;     150  ;    and    the    Crimean   War, 

Coercion  Bdls,  102,  142-146,  209 

Cogan's  school,  Dr.,  15-17 

Colenso,  Bishop,  170,  173,  175 

'  Coningsby  ;  or,  the  New  Generation  — 
Sidonia,  88  ;  married  life  in,  89  ;  Dr. 
Newman  and,  108  ;  outline  o  108- 
119;  127,  128,  215;  the  Reformation 
in,  226 

Conservative  constitution,  in  '  Conings- 
by,' 110-112,  117  ;  35  years  out  of 
office,  192  ;  251,  252 

Constantinople,  40 

'  Contarini    Fleming,'   school-days    pic- 


264 


LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


COR 

tured   in,    15-19 ;   38 ;  passages  from 

45-48  ;  49,  215 
Copyright  Bill,  73,  74 
Corfu,  36 
Cornish,  Dr.,  29 
Corn  Laws,  79-82,  93,  94,  130 ;  Peel  and, 

137-143  ;  Bill  for  repeal  of,  140,  141  ; 

league,  150 
Crimean  War,  157,  242,  243,  247 
Croker,  Wilson,  22 
Cuddesden,  B.  D.  at,  173 
'  Curiosities  of  Literature,'  by  Isaac  D., 

10 
Cyprus,  41,  250,  261 

Darwin,  followers  of,  172,  173  ;  '  Origin 
of  Species,'  173 

Death,  257 

Democracy,  192 

Derby,  Lord,  149,  157,  188,  191,  193, 
196,  249 

Devilsdust  in     Sybil,'  121-123 

Dickens  and  '  Pickwick,'  23 

D'Israeli,  Isaac,  and  the  Jewish  people, 
5,  6  ;  boyhood  of,  8-1 1  ;  family  of,  12, 
13  ;  abandons  Judaism  for  the  Church 
of  England,  13,  14  ;  pictured  in  'Vivian 
Grey,' 18;  and  HighWycombeelection, 
55  ;  death  of,  179 

Disraeli,  Benjamin,  the  elder,  7-1 1 

—  James,  son  of  Isaac  D.,  13 

—  Ralph,  son  of — ,  13,  36 

—  Sarah,  daughter  — ,  12,  13  ;  and  Wm. 
Meredith,  44 

Disraeli,  Benjamin,  birth  and  education, 
12-16;  baptism  of,  14;  school  days, 
16-19  :  and  London  society,  19,  50, 
58  ;  enters  a  solicitor's  office,  22  ;  first 
novel,  23-25  ;  travels  abroad,  24-44,99  • 
Bradenham,  24-25  ;  satires  of,  25-27  ; 
dressand  manners,  29,  39,  53,  55  ;  im- 
proved health,  34,  35  ;  the  poetical  life, 
45-49;  prose  writings,  49  ;  political  ambi- 
tion,50,  51  ;  portraitsof,  52-54  ;financial 
embarrassments,  52,  64,  65,  69,  178, 
179  ;  a  Radical,  54  ;  High  Wycombe 
election,  55-57  ;  on  marriage,'58  ;  takes 
seat  in  H.  of  C,  68,  119  ;  maiden 
speech  in  the  House,  70-73  ;  outset  of 
Parliamentary  career,  74  ;  a  Conser- 
vative, 94,  95  ;  political  and  religious 
belief,  83,  84  ;  Carlyle  and,  84,  92,  93, 
130,  252,  253  ;  and  dinner  at  White- 
hall Gardens,  85  ;  marriage  of,  88-90  ; 
Church  views  of,  04-99  '•  creed,  108  ;  as 
Sidoniain  'Coningsby,'  113  ;  and  Sir  R. 
Peel,  131-137, 144-147  :  and  Tory  party, 
139,  140  ;  leader  of  Opposition,  149- 
156  ;  remarkable  speeches  of,  160-164  i 
literary  work,  165-168  ;  religious  views, 
168-172  ;  at  Oxford,  173-177  ;  and  Mrs. 
Willyams,  179-187  ;  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  188  ;  arms  and  motto, 
186,  187  ;  and  Parliamentary  Reform, 
199,  202;  Prime  Minister,  196-198,  235- 


GER 

242:  wife,  211  ;  and  Ireland,  211  r 
writings,  216  ;  return  to  power,  235  ; 
on  the  abolition  of  slavery,  236  ;  and 
Russia,  248,  249 ;  retirement  from 
office,  254,  255  ;  illness  and  death, 
257  ;  general  estimate  of,  258-262.  See 
also  Noz'cls,  Speeches,  Satires,  and 
Elections 

D'Orsay,  Count,  50,  58,  62,  92,  108 

Dress,  29,  39,  53,  55,  70,  92,  173 

Ducrow  speech,  65 

Dufferin,  Lady,  and  D.'s  dress,  53 

Duncombe,  Tom,  86,  108 

Durham,  Lord,  57 

Early  ambition,  18,  21 

Eastern  Question  of  1843,  the,  i°3i  i°4  ', 
of  1877,  244-250 

Education,  13-19 

Effects  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  policy,  213^ 
214 

'  Egremont,'  £8 

Egypt,  43 

Eldon,  Lord,  and  Toryism,  68 

Elections,  see  High  Wycombe,  Taunton 
Maidstone,  Shrewsbury 

Eliot,  Lord,  50 

'  Endymion,'  Ferrars  in,  24,  25,  88,  178, 
255,  256 

England,  the  Jews  in,  5,  7  ;  past  and 
present,  74-82;  trade,  76;  Christi- 
anity, 81;  progress  in,  9r,  92;  and 
economists,  93,  94  ;  revival  of  Church 
of,  04-99,  I02  '•  feudal  system  of,  97  ; 
the  aristocracy  of,  86,  107,  109  112, 
113,  187,  192-194,  217;  Constitution 
in  'Coningsby,'  114-119,  127,  128; 
working  of  English  Government,  125, 
126  ;  party  government  in,  153-156; 
wealth  of,  161  ;  warning  against  play- 
ing with  the  Constitution,  162-164, 
188  ;  and  Protestantism,  203 

English  Constitution,  a  satire  on,  26, 
27 

Evangelicals,  the,  204 

Exhibition  of  1851,  Mrs.  Willyams  and, 
180  ;  of  1862,  183 

Family  history,  6-11 
Fenian  Rebellion  of  1867,  201,  202 
Feudal  system  in  England,  97 
Financial   embarrassments,    64,    65,    69, 

'78i.  179 
Fleuriz,  governor  of  Cadiz,  32 
France,   and    L.    Napoleon,    156,    157  ; 

revolution  in,  163  ;  and  Germany,  232 
Franchise  Bill,  a,  195 
Free    Trade,  78-82,  92,    100,   125,   131  ; 

and  Progress,  149-152  ;  effects  of,  160, 

161  ;  193,  238 
Frere,  Sir  Bartle,  251 

'Genius  of  Judaism, 'by  Isaac  Disraeli , 

5-6,  13,  14 
Germany  and  Carlyle,  25 


INDEX 


265 


GIP 

braltar,  29-31  ;  Government  House  at, 

29.  3° 

Gladstone,  Mr.  W.  E. ,  speech  on  Ire- 
land, 20?  :  Irish  palicy,  204-214  ;  235  ; 
and  Turkey,  247 

'Globe  '  and  O'Connell,  64 ;  70 

Gore,  Mrs.,  50 

Gospel,  the  new,  129,  130 

Granada,  33,  34 

Grandison,  Cardinal  in  '  Lothair,' 
220-230 

Grant,  Chas.,  50 

Greece,  36,  39  ;  and  Lord  Stanley,  184 

Greville,  Chas.,  57 

Grey,  Lord,  54,  59,  162  ;  Reform  Ca- 
binet, 191  ; 's  son,  55,  56 

Hanover,  King  of,  io» 

Harrington,  Lord,  212,  23; 

'  Henrietta  Temple,"  65,  109,  215 

Herbert  (Sidney),  135.  136 

High  Wycombe  election,  54-58,  60,  65 

Holland,  the  Jews  in,  7  ;    Isaac  Disraeli 

sent  to,  9 
Holy  Land,  the,  28 
Hope,  H.,  102,  108 
House  of  Commons,  first  visit  to,  50,  51 ; 

65,    69 ;  maiden    speech    in,    70,   71  ; 

power  in  the,  100,  101  ;  and  Ireland, 

104-106  ;  and  Disraeli,  139,  140 
Hughenden  Manor,  179  ;  life  at,  182, 183, 

255  ;  buried  at,  258 
Human  greatness,  condition  of,  258-260 
Hume,  55,  56 
Hunting,  58 

India,  234,  238-240,  261 
Indian  Mutiny,  the,  158,  183 
'Infernal  Marriage,' 26,  27.  217 
Inquisition,  the,  and  the  Jews,  6 
Ireland,  59  ;  in  '  Popanilla,'6o ;  65, 70,  71, 
i  98,  102-106,  136  ;  famine  in,  138,  142  ; 

Fenianism  in,  200-203  '•  Church  of,  204- 

211 ;  233,  237,  238,  242,  260 
Irish  Education  Bill,  235 
Irvine's  (Washington)  story  of  the  Inn 

at  Terracina,  33 

Ixion  in  Heaven,'  26,  27 

Jaffa,  41 

Jerusalem,  visit  to,  41-43,  230 
Jews,  the,  4  ;  of  Spain,  5,  6  ;  in  Venice, 
6,  7  ;  in  Holland,  7  ;  Carlyle  and,  84  ; 
in  Parliament,  155  ;  Europe  and  the, 
166  ;  Judaism,  169,  170  ;  and  decora- 
tion, 216  ;  in  Parliament,  234  ;  see 
aKo  '  Genius  of  Judaism' 

Kaffir  War,  251 
Knatchbull,  Sir  E.,  145 

Lahouchere,  Mr.,  60 
Landowners  of  Ireland,  202,  203 
—  Act  of  1870,  237 
Lara,  the  house  of,  6 


o'co 

Leech,  J.,  and  Punch,  25a 
Lempriere's  dictionary,  26 
Lennox,  Lord  William,  50 
Letters,  84  ;    on  his  travels  abroad,  24- 

44;  to  'The  Times'  re  O'Connell,  62, 

63  ;  Runnymede,  64  ;  to   sister  about 

maiden    speech,     71-73  :      to     Mrs. 

Brydges  Willyams,  182-187 
Lewis,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyndham,  51,  67  ; 

death  of  Mr.,  88 
'  Life   of  Lord  George   Bentinck,'  108  : 

SirR.  Peel  in,  131  ;  145,  146,  165,  168, 

179,  226 
London  ;  society  in,  19  ;  of  to-day,  151 
'  Lothair,'  Preface  to,  98,  99  ;  outline  of, 

215-231  ;  256,  260 
Lyle,  Mr.,  in  'Coningsby,    m 
Lyndhurst,  Lord,  57-59,  64,  147 

Macaulay,  50,  203 

Madden's  memoirs  of  Lady  Blessington, 

54 
Maidstone,  returned  for,  67,  100 
Majuba  Hill,  251 
Malaga,  adventure  at,  33 
Malta,  35,' 36 
Manners,  Lord  John,  102 
Maples,  Mr.   and  '  Ben,'  22 
Marney,  Lord,  in  'Sybil,'  120,  121,  130 
Marriage  of  B.  D.,  88-90 
Maule,  Fox,  86 
Maurice,  Fred,  176 
Maynooth  grant,  the,  136 
Melbourne,    Lord,    59,  67,    68,  71,   87; 

91,  196 
Mentana,  battle  of,  in  '  Lothair,' 226-228 
Meredith,  William,  28-44 
Miles,  Mr.,  and  agriculture,  135 
Millbank  and  English  aristocracy,  112  ; 

state  of  parties  in  England,  117-119, 

130 
Milman,  and  'Contarini,'  46,  49 
Monmouth,  Lord,  in  'Coningsby,'  no 
Moore,  Tom,  50 
Morgan,  Lady,  50 
Motley,  Mr.,  53 
Motto,  186,  187 
Mount  of  Olives,  the,  42 
Mowbray,  Lord,  in  'Sybil,'  120,121,  130 
Mulgrave,  Lord,  50 
Murray,  John,  22,  23 
Myra,  in  '  Endymion,'  256 

Napoleon,  Louis,  156, 157, 159, 185, 226, 

243 
Norton,  Mrs.,  50 
Newman,     Dr.,     secession     from    the 

Church,  98,  99  ;  and  '  Coningsby,"  108 
Novels.        See     'Contarini      Fleming," 

'Vivian   Grey,'    'Endymion,'    '  Tan- 

cred,'  'Alroy,'    'Coningsby' — Sidonia 

'  Sybil,'  '  Lothair,'  &c. 

—  heroes  of  his  political,  87,  88 

O'Connell  (Morgan),  and  Disraeli,  55, 


266 


LORD   BEACONSFIELD 


OCO 

58-65  ;  and  Sir  F.  Burdett,  70 ;  and 
Ireland  in  1843,  102,  104  ;  136 

O'Connor,  T.  P.,  '  Life  of  Lord  Beacons- 
field,'  Ireland  in,  105,  106 

Oxford,  Church  at,  84  ;  Tractarian 
movement  at,  107,  108,  203  ;  High 
Churchmen  at,  172  ;  B.  D.  at  173-177 

Palmerston,  Lord,  100,  ioi,  103,  159, 

Paris,  Isaac  Disraeli  in,  10,  12  ;  dinner, 
with  Louis  Philippe,  101 

Parliament  and  Disraeli,  3,  4  ;  in 
'Coningsby,'  117-119  ;  Jews  in,  234 

Parliamentary  government,  Carlyle 
and,  1 

Penal  laws,  205,  208,  209 

Personal  characteristics,  260-262 

Philippe,  Louis,  101,  185 

Philpotts,  Bishop,  68 

Peel,  Sir  Robert,  first  meeting  with,  50  ; 
59  ;  and  O'Connell,  63,  104  ;  68,  69,  71, 
72,  74,  84-87,  94,  99;  in  1841,  109- 
102  ;  and  Eastern  Question,  103 ;  in 
'Coningsby,'  no,  in;  119,  129;  and 
Disraeli,  131-137  ;  and  Canning,  134, 
143  ;  and  Free  Trade,  135,  136,  192, 
193;  challenge  to  D.,  136,  137: 
and  the  Corn  Laws,  138-143  ;  and 
Lord  Bentinck,  144-146,  16S  ;  fall  of, 
146,  147,  212  ;  Disraeli  and,  261 

Pitt,  21  ;  the  younger,  69,  98  ;  the 
elder,  146  ;  and  Warren,  187 ;  the 
two,  242 

Plato  and  Greece,  132 ;  and  religion, 
171,   172 

Poems,  Isaac  D.'s,  10,  n 

Poet,  a,  or  not  a  poet?  47-49 

Poland,  185,  186 

Political  economy,  78,  93,  94,  129,  130 

1  Popanilla,'  26,  27,  60 

Poticary's  school,  Mr.,  13,  14 

Press  representation  in  'Coningsby,1 
118,  119 

Prince  Imperial,  the,  213 

Progress,  147,  148 

Protection,  78-82,  193 

Protestantism,  77,  203  ;  in  Ireland,  202, 
203 

Public  schools,  15 

Public  Worship  Bill,  172,  246,  247 

Puseyism  at  Oxford,  94-96 

'  Quarterly  Review,'  January  1889, 
20,  49 

Radicals  in  Parliament,  59,  70,  74,  246 

Ramie,  plain  of,  42 

Rathcormack  massacre,  the,  59 

Rationalism,  172,  173,  204 

Redshid  Pasha,  36-40 

Reformation,  the,  207 

Reform  Bill  of  1867,  Carlyle  and,  1-3  ; 
59,  68,  85,  94  ;  effects  of,  96-98  ;  125  ;  a 
new,  188-192,  198,  199,  202,  234 


SYB 

'  Revolutionary  Epic,'  a  poem,  45,  48,  108 

Rogers,  Samuel,  22 

Rose,  Dr.,  of  Wycombe,  64 

Rothschild,  186 

Rowton,  Lord,  255 

Runnymede  letters  in  '  The  Times,'  64 

Russell,  Lord  John,  74  ;  and  the  Chartist 
riots,  86  ;  and  Ireland,  105,  106  ;  and 
Corn  Law,  132  ;  137-139,  145,  162  ;  and 
Reform  Bill,  188  ;  and  the  Polish 
Question,  185  ;  246 

Russia  and  the  Black  Sea  Treaty,  232, 
332  ;  243_245  ;  in  Asia,  244 ;  and 
Turkey,  247-250 

Salisbury,  Lord,  195 

Satires.     _  See      '  Ixion     in      Heaven,' 

'  Popanilla,'  '  The  Infernal  Marriage,' 

&c. 
School  life,  14-19 
Scott,  Sir  W.,  and   Isaac  D.'s  poems, 

10,  11 
Self-defence,  the  art  of,  17 
Servia,  247 
Seville,  33 

Seymour,  Sir  H.,  157 
Shiel  (Irish  leader),  50,  73 
'  Shooting  Niagara,'  by  T.  Carlyle,  1-3, 

195 

Shrewsbury  election,  100 

Sidonia  in  '  Coningsby,'  113-116,  127 

Slavery,  abolition  of,  236 

Smyth,  George,  102 

Smythe,  Sir  H.,  hunting  with,  58 

Spain,  the  Jews  of,  5,  6  ;  visit  to,  28,  29  ; 
adventures  in,  30-35 

Spanish  families  and  crests,  187 

Speeches,  at  the  '  Red  Lion,'  High  Wy- 
combe, 55,  56  ;  at  Taunton,  61,  62  ;  at 
Wycombe,  65  ;  Ducrow,  65  ;  maiden — 
in  House  of  Commons,  70-73;  on  Copy- 
right Bill,  73,  74  ;  during  Peel's  Minis- 
try, 133-138  5  °n  Free  Trade,  135,  136, 
140;  on  the  Corn  Laws,  137-138,  140- 
142  ;  on  the  effects  of  Free  Trade, 
160,  161  ;  on  playing  with  the  Consti- 
tution, 160-164  •  at  Oxford,  on  the 
Church,  173-177  ;  on  tricks  with 
British  Constitution,  188 ;  on  secret 
committees,  212,  213  ;  at  Manchester, 

214  ;  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  1872,  239  ; 
at  Berlin  Conference,  249 

Stanley,  Dean,  175 

—  Lord,  139  ;  and  Greece,  184 

Strafford  and  Ireland,  60 

Strangford,  Lord,  63 

Strauss,  followers  of,  172,  173 

Suez  Canal,  43  ;  shares,  261 

Swift,  the  satire  of,  26 
Sybil;  or,  the  Two  Nations,' dedicated 
to  his  wife, '88,  89  ;  92  ;  Reform  Act  in, 
96-98  ;   extracts   from,   &c,    119-129, 

215  ;   the   Reformation   in,  226  ;   256, 
260 


INDEX 


267 


TAD 

Tadpole  and  Taper  in  '  Sybil,'  125, 
126 

*  Tancred;  or,  the  New  Crusade,'  im- 
pressions of  the  Holy  Land  in,  41-43  : 
sketch  of,  165-168  ;  215 

Tariff  of  1842,  the,  101 

Taunton  election,  60,  64 

Theodora,  in  '  Lothair,'  221-226 

Theories  of  life,  169,  170 

'  Times,'  letter  to,  about  O'Connell,  62, 
63  ;  Runnymede  letters  in,  64 

Tractarians  at  Oxford,  107,  108,  204 ; 
Mr.  Gladstone  a,  207  ;  246 

Trafford,  130 

Transvaal,  251 

Travels  abroad,  24-44 

Troy,  the  plain  of,  41 

Turkey  in  1843,  103,  104  ;  157.  243,  244  : 
and  Russia,  247-250  ;  treaty  with,  250 

Turks,  the,  36-38 

Turner,  Mr.  Sharon,  14 

Tyre,  the  Jews  and,  4 

Under-Secretaries  of  State,  86 

'  Venetia,' 65,  tog,  215 
Venice,  the  Jew  in,  6,  7 
'Vestiges  of  the    Natural    History   of 
Creation,'  166-168 


ZUL 

'  Vindication  of  the  British  Constitution' 

59.  64  . 

'  Vivian  Grey,'  school-days  pictured  in, 

15-19 ;    and   the    Bar,    21  ;    and    the 

Church,  21  ;  a  successful  novel,  23-25  ; 

the  'Young  Duke'  in,  25  ;  28,  29,  46, 

49.  2I5.  260 
Voltaire  on  Ireland,  208,  242 

Wales's  wedding,  the  Prince  of,   184, 

185 
Wellington,  the  Duke  of,  57,  63,  64,  99 
'  What  is  he  ? '  a  political  pamphlet,  57,  58 
Whigs,   and    Ireland,    59-61  ;    67,    70 ; 

ministry  in  1865,  188 
Wife,  his,  88-90,  211 
Wilberforce,  Bishop,  173 
William  IV.,  death  of,  67 
Willis,    N.    P.,     sketch    of    Benjamin 

Disraeli,  52,  53 
Willyams,    Mrs.  Brydges,  of  Torquay, 

179-187,  258  .«,,., 

Wiseman,  Cardinal,  in    Lothair,  220 

Yanina,  visit  to,  36-40 

Young  Englanders,  the,  102,  107,  109      \/ 

Zulus,  the,  213  ;  war  with,  251 


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bels, Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $8  00;  Sheep,  $10  00;  Half  Calf, 
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Books  of  Interest  to  Readers  of  English  History.  3 

LIFE  AND  DEATH  OF  JOHN"  OF  BARNEVELD,  Advocate  of  Hol- 
land. With  a  View  of  the  Primary  Causes  and  Movements  of  the 
"Thirty  years'  War."  By  John  Lothrop  Motley,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  Il- 
lustrated. Two  Volumes  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Un- 
cut Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $4  00;  Sheep,  $3  00;  Half  Calf,  $8  50. 
(Sold  only  in.  Sets.) 

THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY,  D.C.L., 
Author  of  "  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,"  "  History  of  the  United 
Netherlands,"  "  The  Life  and  Death  of  John  of  Barneveld."  &c.  Ed- 
ited bv  George  William  Curtis.  With  Portrait.  2  vols.,  Royal  8vo, 
Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $7  00;  Sheep,  $8  00;  Half  Calf, 
$11  50.     (In  a  Box.) 

THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES.  First  Series.— From  the 
First  Settlement  of  the  Country  to  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal  Con- 
stitution. Second  Series. — From  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal  Consti- 
tution to  the  End  of  the  Sixteenth  Congress.  By  Richard  Hildreth. 
6  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops, 
$12  00;  Sheep,  $15  00  ;  Half  Calf,  $25  50.     (Sold  only  in  Sets.) 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  COLONIES  IN  AMERICA. 
By  Henry  Cabot  Lodge.     8vo,  Half  Leather,  $3  00. 

HARPER'S  POPULAR  CYCLOPEDIA  OF  UNITED  STATES  HIS- 
TORY. From  the  Aboriginal  Period  to  1876.  Containing  Brief 
Sketches  of  Important  Events  and  Conspicuous  Actors.  By  Benson 
J.  Lossing.  Illustrated  by  Two  Steel-plate  Portraits  and  over  1000 
Engravings.  2  vols.,  Royal  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00  ;  Sheep,  $12  00;  Half 
Morocco,  $15  00.     (Sold  by  Subscription  only.) 

PICTORIAL  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  REVOLUTION ;  or,  Illustrations 
by  Pen  and  Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and 
Traditions  of  the  War  for  Independence.  With  1100  Illustrations. 
By  Benson  J.  Lossing.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00;  Sheep,  $15  00; 
Half  Calf,  $18  00. 

PICTORIAL  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812;  or,  Illustrations 
by  Pen  and  Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and 
Traditions  of  the  last  War  for  American  Independence.  By  Benson 
J.  Lossing.  With  882  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00;  Sheep,  $8  50; 
Half  Calf  or  Half  Morocco  extra,  $10  00. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE.  By  John  Richard  Green, 
MA.  With  Maps.  In  Four  Volumes.  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00 ;  Sheep, 
$12  00;   Half  Calf,  $19  00. 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  PEOPLE.  By  John  Rich- 
aiU)  GREEN.  With  Maps  and  Tallies.  New  and  enlarged  Edition, 
from  New  Electrotype  Plates.     Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $1  20. 

THE  MAKING  OF  ENGLAND.  Bv  John  Richard  Green.  With  Maps. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50  ;  Sheep,  $3  oo  ;   Half  Calf,  $4  75. 


4  Books  of  Interest  to  Headers  of  English  History. 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  ENGLAND.  By  John  Richard  Gbekn,  M.A., 
LL.D.  With  Portrait  and  Colored  Maps.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50;  Sheep, 
$3  00;  Half  Calf,  $4  75. 

THE  INVASION  OF  THE  CRIMEA  :  its  Origin,  and  an  Account  of  its 
Progress  down  to  the  Death  of  Lord  Raglan.  By  A.  W.  Kinulake. 
Maps  and  Plans.  6  vols.,  12ino,  Cloth,  $2  00  per  vol.;  Half  Calf, 
$22  50  per  Set. 

MEMOIRS  OF  WILHELMINE,  Margravine  of  Baireuth.  Translated  and 
Edited  by  H.  R.  H.  Princess  Christian,  of  Schleswig-Holstein,  Prin- 
cess of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.     16mo,  Cloth, $1  25. 

A  HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES,  from  the  Accession  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria to  the  General  Election  of  1880.  By  Justin  McCarthy.  2  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  OUR  OWN  TIMES,  from  the  Accession  of 
Queen  Victoria  to  the  General  Election  of  1880.  By  Justin  Mc- 
Carthy.    12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

A  HISTORY  OF  THE  FOUR  GEORGES.  By  Justin  McCarthy.  In 
Four  Volumes.     Vols.  I.  and  II.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25  each. 

A  HISTORY  OF  THE  INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  EU- 
ROPE. Bv  John  W.  Draper,  M.D.,  LL.D.  New  Edition.  2  vols., 
12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00;  Half  Calf,  $6  50. 

HISTORY  OF  FREDERICK  II.,  called  Frederick  the  Great.  By  Thomas 
Carlyle.     Portraits,  Maps,  Plans,  &c.     6  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $ 7  50. 

LETTERS  AND  SPEECHES  OF  OLIVER  CROMWELL,  including  the 
Supplement  to  the  First  Edition.  With  Elucidations.  By  Thomas 
Carlyle.     2  vols,  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

HISTORY  OF  THE    FRENCH  REVOLUTION.     By  Thomas  Carlyle. 

2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

THE  EARLY  KINGS  OF  NORWAY;  also  an  Essay  on  the  Portraits  of 
John  Knox.     By  Thomas  Carlyle.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

THOMAS  CARLYLE.  By  James  Anthony  Frocde,  M.A.  Portraits  and 
Illustrations.    2  vols.,12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00  each. 

THOMAS  CARLYLE.     By  M.  D.  Conway.     Ill'd.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

MRS.  CARLYLE'S  LETTERS.  Letters  and  Memorials  of  Jane  Welsh 
Carlyle.  Prepared  for  Publication  by  Thomas  Carlyle.  Edited  by 
James  Anthony  Froude.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

REMINISCENCES  BY  THOMAS  CARLYLE.  Edited  by  J.  A.  Froude. 
12mo,  Cloth,  with  Index  and  13  Portraits,  50  cents. 


Books  of  Interest  to  Readers  of  English  History.  5 

MEMOIRS  OF  PRINCE  METTERKICH,  1773-1829.  Edited  by  Prince 
Richard  Micttkrnich.  The  Papers  Classified  and  Arranged  by  M.  A. 
de  Klinkowstrom.     3  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

A  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND.  From  the  Accession 
of  Henry  VIII.  to  the  Sibncing  of  Convocation  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury. By  Rev.  G.  G.  Pkrry,  M.A. ,  Canon  of  Lincoln.  With  an  Ap- 
pendix, containing  a  Sketch  of  the  History  of  the  Protestant  Episco- 
pal Church  in  the  United  States  of  America.  By  J.  A.  Spencer,  S.T.D. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

A  TEXT-BOOK  OF  CHURCH  HISTORY.  By  Dr.  John  C.  L.  Gieseler. 
Translated  frojn  the  Fourth  Revised  German  Edition.  By  Samuel 
Davidson,  LL.D.,  and  Rev.  John  Winstanlev  Hull,  M.A.  A  New 
American  Edition,  Revised  and  Edited  by  Rev.  Henry  B.  Smith,  D.D., 
Professor  in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York.  Vols.  I., 
II.,  III.,  and  IV,  8vo.,  Cloth,  $2  25  ;  Vol.  V.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00.  Com- 
plete Sets,  5  vols.,  Sheep,  $14  50  ;  Half  Calf,  $23  25. 

POLITICAL  HISTORY  OF  RECENT  TIMES  (1816-1875).  With  Spe- 
cial Reference  to  Germany.  By  Wilhklm  Muller,  Professor  in  Tu- 
bingen. Revised  and  Enlarged  by  the  Author.  Translated,  with  an 
Appendix  covering  the  Period  from  1876  to  1881,  by  the  Rev.  John 
P.  Peters,  Ph.D.     12mo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

THE  CONSTITUTIONAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND,  from  the  Acces- 
sion of  Henry  VII.  to  the  Death  of  George  II.  By  Henry  Hallam, 
LL.D.,  F.R.A^S.     8vo,  Cloth,  §2  00;  Sheep,  $2  50. 

THE  MIDDLE  AGES.  View  of  the  State  of  Europe  during  the  Middle 
Ages.     By  Henry  Hali.am,  LL.D.,  F.R.A.S.     Svo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

THE  CONSTITUTIONAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND  FROM  1760  TO 
1860.     By  Charles  Duke  Yonge,  M.A.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

MOHAMMED  AND  MOHAMMEDANISM.  Lectures  delivered  at  the 
Royal  Institution  of  Great  Britain  in  February  and  March,  1874.  By 
R.  Bosworth  Smith,  M.A.,  Assistant  Master  in  Harrow  School;  late 
Fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Oxford.  With  an  Appendix  containing 
Emanuel  Deutsch's  Article  on  "  Islam."     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

A  SHORT  HISTORY  OF  PARLIAMENT.  Bv  B.  C.  Skottowe,  M.A., 
New  College,  Oxford.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

THE  TREATY  OF  WASHINGTON:  its  Negotiation,  Execution,  and  the 
Discussions  relating  thereto.  By  Caleb  Cushing.  down  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  00. 

LIFE,  TIMES,  AND  CHARACTER  OF  OLIVER  CROMWELL.  By  E. 
H.  Knatchbull-Hugessen,  M.P.  32mo,  Paper,  20  cents;  Cloth,  35 
cents. 


6  Books  of  Interest  to  Readers  of  English  History. 

TIIE  EARLY  HISTORY  OF  CHARLES  JAMES  FOX.  By  George  Otto 
Trevelyan,  M.P.,  Author  of  "The  Life  and  Letters  of  Lord  Macau- 
lay."    8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Top,  $2  50;  Half  Calf,  $4  75. 

A  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND  TO  THE  SEVENTEENTH  CENTURY.  By 
the  Right  Hon.  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  M.P.  3  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth, 
$3  00. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  MODERN  EUROPE;  with  a  View  of  the  Progress 
of  Society,  from  the  Rise  of  the  Modern  Kingdoms  to  the  Peace  of 
Paris  in  1763.  By  W.  Russell.  With  a  Continuance  of  the  History 
by  William  Jones.  Illustrated.  3  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $6  00;  Sheep, 
$7  50;  Half  Calf,  $12  75. 

THACKERAY'S  LECTURES.  Containing  the  English  Humorists  and 
the  Four  Georges.  By  W.  M.  Thackeray.  Complete  in  One  Volume. 
12mo,  Cioth,  $1  25. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  CIVIL  WAR.  Bv  John  W.  Draper, 
M.D.,  LL.D.  In  Three  Volumes.  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  50;  Sheep,  $12  00; 
Half  Calf,  $17  25. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  FREDERICK  THE  SECOND,  called  Frederick  the 
Great.  Bv  John  S.  C  Abbott.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00  ;  Sheep, 
$5  50;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  OF  1789,  as  Viewed  in  the  Light  of  Re- 
publican Institutions.  Bv  John  S.  C.  Abbott.  100  Illustrations. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00;  Sheep,' $5  50;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  NAPOLEON  BONAPARTE.  By  John  S.  C.  Abbott. 
With  Maps,  Illustrations,  and  Portraits  on  Steel.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth, 
$10  00;  Sheep,  $11  00;  Half  Calf,  $14  50. 

NAPOLEON  AT  ST.  HELENA;  or,  Interesting  Anecdotes  and  Remark- 
able Conversations  of  the  Emperor  during  the  Five  and  a  Half  Years 
of  his  Captivity.  Collected  from  the  Memorials  of  Las  Casas,0'Meara, 
Montholon,  Antommarchi,  and  others.  By  John  S.  C.  Abbott.  Illus- 
trated.    Svo,  Cloth,  $5  00  ;  Sheep,  $5  50;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  REVOLT  OF  THE  NETHERLANDS;  Trial  and 
Execution  of  Counts  Egmont.  and  Horn,  and  the  Siege  of  Antwerp. 
By  Frederick  Schiller.  Translated  from  the  German  by  the  Rev. 
A.  J.  W.  Morrison,  M.A.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR.  By  Frederick  Schiller. 
Translated  from  the  German  by  the  Rev.  A.  J.  W.  Morrison,  M.A. 
12mo,  Cloth.  $1  00. 

LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  THE  REV.  SYDNEY  SMITH.  Based  on  Family 
Documents  and  the  Recollections  of  Personal  Friends.  By  Stuart  J. 
Reid.     With  Portraits  and  Illustrations.     8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 


Books  of  Interest  to  Readers  of  English  History.  7 

BOSWELL'S  LIFE  OF  JOHNSON1,  including  Boswell's  Journal  of  a 
Tour  to  the  Hebrides,  and  Johnson's  Diary  of  a  Journey  into  North 
Waies.  Edited  by  George  Birkbeck  Hill,  D.C.L.,  Pembroke  College, 
Oxford.  Edition  dc  Luxe,  300  copies  printed,  each  copy  of  which  is 
numbered.  In  Six  Volumes.  Large  8vo,  Leather  Back  and  Cloth 
Sides,  Gilt  Tops  and  Uncut  Edges.  With  many  Portraits,  Views,  Fac- 
similes, &e.  (In  a  Handsome  Box.)  Price,  $30  00. 
Popular  Edition,  6  volumes,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $10  00. 

WHAT  I  REMEMBER.  By  Thomas  Adolphcs  Trollope.  With  Por- 
trait.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75  each. 

MY  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  AND  REMINISCENCES.  By  W.  P.  Frith, 
R.A.     With  Portraits.     2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50  each. 

GEORGE  ELIOT'S  LIFE,  as  Related  in  her  Letters  and  Journals.  Ar- 
ranged and  Edited  by  her  Husband,  J.  W.  Cross.  Portraits  and  Illus- 
trations. 3  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth.  Library  Edition,  $3  75.  Popular  Edi- 
tion, $2  25.     Special  Edition  in  Half  Cloth  Binding,  $2  00. 

EPISODES  IX  A  LIFE  OF  ADVENTURE  ;  or,  Moss  from  a  Rolling 
Stone.     By  Laurence  Oliphant.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

CHARLES  READE,  D.C.L.,  DRAMATIST,  NOVELIST,  JOURNALIST. 
A  Memoir  compiled  chiefly  from  his  Literary  Remains.  By  Ciiaiii.es  L. 
READEandtheRev.  Co.mpton  Reade.  With  Portrait.  12mo,  Cloth, $1  25. 

SOME  LITERARY  RECOLLECTIONS.  By  James  Payn.  With  Portrait. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

MEMOIRS  OF  A  MAN  OF  TnE  WORLD.  Fifty  Years  of  London  Life. 
By  Edmiwd  Yates.    With  Portrait.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF  LEIGH   HUNT.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

LIFE  OF  MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD,  Told  by  Herself  in  Letters  to  her 
Friends.  With  Anecdotes  of  her  most  Celebrated  Contemporaries. 
Edited  by  the  Rev.  A.  G.  K.  L'Estrange.    2  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  50. 

THE  FRIENDSHIPS  OF  MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD,  as  Recorded  in 
Letters  from  her  Literary  Correspondents.  Edited  by  the  Rev.  A.  G. 
K.  L'Estrange.     I2mo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

STEVENS'S  MADAM  DE  STAEL.  A  Study  of  her  Life  and  Times. 
By  Abel  Stevens,  LL.D.  Two  Steel  Portraits.  2  vols,  12mo,  Cloth, 
$3  00. 

LIFE  OF  LORD  BYRON,  AND  OTHER  SKETCHES.     By  Emilio  Cas- 

Tklar.      12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

MOORE'S  LIFE  OF  BYRON.  Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron.  By 
Thomas  Moore.     2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00. 


8  Books  of  Interest  to  Readers  of  English  History. 

THE  EARLY  LTFE  OF  JONATHAN  SWIFT  (1667-1711).  By  John 
Forstkr.  With  Portrait  and  Fac-similes.  A  Biographical  Fragment. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

EDWARD  BULWER,  LORD  LYTTOX.  Life,  Letters,  and  Literary  Re- 
mains of  Edward  Buhver,  Lord  Lytton.  By  his  Son,  the  Earl  of 
Lytton  ("  Owen  Meredith  ").  2  vols,  in  one.  Illustrated  by  Portraits, 
Engravings,  Fac-similes  of  MSS.,  &c.     12mo,  Cloth,  $2  75. 

ANTHONY  TROLLOPE'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.   With  a  Portrait.   12rao, 

Cloth,  $1  25. 

THE  LIFE  OF   JOHN  LOCKE.     By  H.  R.  Fox  Bourne.     2  vols.,  8vo, 

Cloth,  $5  00. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON.  His  Words  and  His  Ways  ;  What  He  said,  What 
He  did,  and  What  Men  Thought  and  Spoke  Concerning  Him.  Edited 
by  E.  T.  Mason.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 

THE  LIFE  OF  SAMUEL  JOHNSON,  LL.D.  Including  a  Journal  of  a 
Tour  to  the  Hebrides.  By  James  Boswell,  Esq.  With  Additions  and 
Notes  by  John  Wilson  Croker,  LL.D.  Portrait  of  Boswell.  2  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00 ;  Sheep,  $5  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $8  50. 

THE  LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM.  Written  by  Him- 
self.    3  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth,  in  box,  $6  00. 

THE  LIFE  AND  CORRESPONDENCE  OF  ROBERT  SOUTHEY.  Ed- 
ited by  his  Son,  Rev.  C.  C.  Southey.  Portrait.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00; 
Sheep," $2  50. 

MEMOIR  AND  LETTERS  OF  SARA  COLERIDGE.  With  Portraits. 
Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50;  Half  Calf,  $4  50. 

ENGLISH  MEN  OF  LETTERS.  Edited  by  John  Morley.  12mo,  Cloth, 
75  cents  per  volume. 

Johnson. — Gibbon. — Scott. — Shelley. — Hume. — Goldsmith.— De- 
foe.— Burns. — Spenser. — Thackeray. — Burke.— Milton.— Hawthorne. 
— Sonthey. —  Bunyan. — Chaucer. — Cowper. — Pope. — Byron. — Locke. 
Wordsworth. — Dryden. — Landor. — De  Qnincey. — Lamb. — Bentlev. — 
Dickens. — Gray. — Swift. — Sterne. — Macaulav. — Fielding. — Sheridan. 
— Addison. — Bacon. — Coleridge. — Sidney. — Keats. 

Also,  People's  Edition  (36  volumes  in  12),  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00  per  volume. 
Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 


Harpf.k  &  Brotiii'-.bs  will  send  any  of  the  above  works  by  mail,  postage  prepaid, 
to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


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